In the Right Direction
by MyLoversPrayer
Summary: Fitz is in a rut, simply trying to make ends meet. Olivia's at the prime of her career, but can hardly make sense of anything else in her life beyond that. When they cross paths once, it seems like a taste of what could've been. But when life throws them together again, it starts to seem much more like a real glimpse at what might just be.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I've been going back and forth on this one for a while, and I'm very excited to finally have the first chapter up! I'm going to try my absolute best to update regularly, and as of right now, I don't intend for this story to be too long, but I'd also definitely be willing to return to it past the end point I have in mind (especially with Scandal ending, I need something to hold onto haha). I hope you enjoy, and please, as always, let me know what you think.**

 **(Also, thank you so much to anyone who's read/reviewed my one shots, because it honestly makes my day and it's why I was finally able to commit myself to this one.)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Scandal or any of its characters.**

* * *

"Damnit, can't you go any faster?"

Fitz gripped the steering wheel, willing his jaw to unlock.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Shaw," he spoke without an ounce of sincerity. "There was an accident on fifty-second, so traffic's pretty backed up."

His passenger huffed from the back seat.

"I would've been better off taking the damn subway," he muttered under his breath.

Fitz stopped short unnecessarily, taking great pride in the man's deepening frown as he jerked forward in his seat. For all his talking, the son of a bitch had probably never ridden the subway a day in his life. The thought made Fitz roll his eyes.

It had been nearly a week since he was assigned to the services of one particularly obnoxious Mr. Dean Shaw, and the man had already proven himself to be an absolute pain in the ass. Complaining about everything from the length of their commute to the temperature of the car, he was a living, breathing poster boy for upper-class pretention.

Fitz had been looking for someone older – that is to say, someone more mature – when he was told that, as a company driver for Red Giant Jets, he'd more often than not service its new CEO. He nearly scoffed in disbelief when he was met with a mid-30-something pretty boy with an arrogant pep in his step and one Rolex strapped gaudily to each wrist.

As if Shaw's physical appearance hadn't made it obvious enough, the manner in which he offered only an eyebrow raise as a greeting told Fitz everything he needed to know about the man's lofty lifestyle. He had probably never lifted a finger a day in his life.

Of course, it came as no surprise when a quick Google search revealed that Mr. Shaw had received his new position not through dedication to the company but instead by sheer nepotism. Evidently, his father had gifted him a $30,000 watch for his birthday and the family company for Christmas.

"Wait! Turn down this block."

With a swerve that earned more than a few blaring honks, Fitz started down an unfamiliar block.

He tried not to spend too much time mulling over the unfortunate circumstances that had thrown them into each other's paths. Here was this man lounging in his backseat simply because his father had obviously played his cards right. And yet, here he was playing chauffeur simply because his own father had failed to do the same.

"Ok, here. Right here, _stop_."

Again, the abruptness of the car's movements earned a series of unimpressed honks.

Fitz watched in irritation as the man practically leapt out the car and started for the apartment building to their right. After a moment of considering leaving Mr. Shaw to fend for himself and subsequently deciding that he liked his job's benefits a little too much, he pulled into a free spot just a few cars ahead.

It was the first time he had experienced some semblance of peace and quiet in the past half-hour, and he let his eyes begin to wander. They bounced from one figure to the next, taking in the naturally hurried pace of business men and women, the instinctive huddles of families moving together, the swaying hands of young couples lost in their own world.

For a moment, he couldn't help but envy them. It seemed that wherever he went, everyone had somewhere to be and someone to be with. He was drifting; in fact, he had been drifting for a long time, and he was getting tired of not knowing where he was supposed to end up.

The backseat door opened and closed harshly.

"Why didn't you wait outside the building?"

Fitz gave himself a moment to come up with an answer that didn't begin with " _Because, Jackass…"_

He settled simply for, "I had to park," and was pleasantly surprised by the silence that met him in return.

When it became obvious that neither of them were going to speak, he finally pulled out of the spot and started back on his original route. They continued to inch through traffic in silence, slowly making their way out of the city.

Finally, when there was less than fifteen minutes left to their route, his passenger began speaking once more.

"Look, I'm sorry…"

It was so quiet and so unexpected that Fitz wondered if he had heard correctly. With raised eyebrows, he cleared his throat, inviting him to continue.

"I… that was a dick move back there. I shouldn't have just had you pull over like that. I'm sorry."

Sensing that he wasn't done, Fitz simply glanced at him through the rearview mirror.

"I screwed up and lost my fiancée," he began after a long pause. "At least, I think she was my fiancée, I'm not really sure." He seemed to think over his next few words, taking a moment to look out the window. "I'm just trying to make things right with her. So, I'm sorry for taking that out on you."

Fitz hummed his sign of his acceptance. The apology certainly didn't cover everything that it needed to, but it was their first interaction that left him not wanting to choke the man with his bare hands. Dean Shaw was a certified asshole until proven otherwise, but at least he was an asshole with a heart.

They didn't speak after that, and the ride eventually ended as Fitz pulled into a lengthy driveway.

Not for the first time, he took in the impressive home and the large expanse of land surrounding it. He couldn't stop the twinge of admiration he felt for its beauty and had to admit he understood why Mr. Shaw was willing to go through the nearly hour-and-a-half commute every day.

"Well, I'll see you Monday."

He watched as the man climbed out of the car and took in his unusually slumped shoulders.

That fiancée...or non-fiancée of his had to have done a number on him.

"Have a good weekend, Mr. Shaw," he bid him farewell, perhaps for the first time, without a hint of sarcasm.

If there was one thing he could sympathize with, it was relationship trouble. He knew all too well just how exhausting it could be.

He started to pull out of the driveway when something in the backseat caught his attention. Sitting where Mr. Shaw previously had was a small wad of cash and a navy-blue handkerchief with embroidered initials.

He eased to a stop just before he reached the road and considered returning the items before he made his way back home. He glanced back at the house, standing tall with its large windows and lavish architecture. Another glance into the backseat revealed that the cash amounted to little more than $250.

He weighed his options for a moment. The money would most likely not be missed, and he figured he was owed a little something extra for their earlier detour.

Without giving it another thought, he drove off.

 _Maybe working for Mr. Shaw wouldn't be too bad after all._

* * *

He was less than twenty minutes from his apartment when a group of women exiting the taxi in front of him caught his eye. He watched as they shared bright smiles and adjusted their outfits while making their way to the curb. In several short strides, they arrived at a bar he had come to know only in passing.

Its sign read "Angel's Remorse" in glowing red script, and dilapidated bricks outlined its outer walls. He had never really stopped to take the place in, but now, with a week's worth of stress sitting on his shoulders and a handful of crisp bills burning a hole in his back seat, the bar never seemed so inviting.

A series of loud honks broke the hold on his attention and, in a moment of snap judgment, he pulled into the first available spot he could find.

He quickly brushed himself off and ran a hand through his hair, trying to not look nearly as run down as he felt after the commute. With one swoop, he grabbed the money and handkerchief, shoving it all into his pocket.

Maybe he'd start with a particularly indulgent scotch – in honor of his dear friend, Mr. Shaw. The thought made him smile as he exited the car.

* * *

The inside of Angel's Remorse wasn't at all like he would have guessed from the outside. Its main bar was dark marble, and the tables lining the wall a deep mahogany. Vibrant paintings stuck out against alternating strips of black and gray painted on the walls, with sleek suspension lights illuminating the room.

It felt like a world of its own, far removed from the busy avenue just outside the entrance.

He spotted the group from the taxi hidden in a booth to the back, and took a moment to glance at the surrounding booths. They were practically all full, and by the looks of it, well on their way to becoming overcrowded.

He made his way to the main bar. Fortunately, it wasn't filling up as quickly, and he was able to get a spot far removed from everyone else. Almost as soon as he sat down, he was greeted by a burly man with almost a foot and at least a few years on him.

"Well, you look like you've had a hell of a week. What can I get you?"

Fitz's eyebrows rose; he couldn't tell if he was more surprised by the man's accurate assertion or the accent that placed him a few states south of New York.

The bartender looked him once over before continuing, "You seem like the scotch type. How about a Macallan 12?"

Even more impressed, Fitz simply nodded, earning a deep, belly chuckle.

"They say I have a gift. It's how I've helped keep this place open for so long." And with that, he was gone.

Fitz continued staring at the spot he had just occupied, replaying the strange interaction in his head.

"Don't worry, Al got me the same way the first few times I came here. It's why I keep coming back," a voice spoke from beside him.

He turned to meet the sight of a man seemingly his own age seated directly beside him. He glanced back at all the empty seats lining the bar and couldn't help but wonder why he was there.

The man, apparently oblivious to his own intrusion, stuck out his hand.

"Billy."

After a long moment, Fitz finally relented and met him halfway.

"Fitz."

He then watched Billy flag down the bartender – despite the fact he was already making his way over – and just barely contained a roll of his eyes.

"So, Fitz, what has you spending your Friday evening at _Remordimiento de Angel_?" He questioned, his eyes lingering on the glass Al placed on the counter.

Fitz tried his best not to cringe at his horrible pronunciation and picked up the glass, silently gesturing to it as his answer.

"I'll take the usual, Al, thanks," he spoke quickly, practically dismissing the bartender. "Scotch? My kind of drinking buddy." He grinned.

Again, Fitz didn't offer much of a response and hoped that he would take the hint.

Unfortunately, he didn't. He glanced once around the bar and leaned in, lowering his voice. "The second you stepped in here, at least four pairs of eyes fell on you. Apparently, I need to stick with you if I wanna get laid tonight."

Fitz couldn't help but chuckle at his bluntness.

"I haven't been anyone's wingman since college, and I don't intend to start now," he replied before taking another swig of his drink.

Billy responded with a huff. He thanked Al when a glass was set in front of him, grabbing it and raising it in Fitz's direction.

"Fair enough."

An uncomfortably long moment of silence passed, and Fitz wondered when he would finally leave. Content to dwell in his oblivion, however, Billy simply continued to peruse the bar's guests while downing his drink – letting out repeated, appreciative groans that made Fitz grit his teeth.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he downed the rest of his own drink and stood. He quickly started for the restroom before Billy had a chance to question him. On his way, he caught Al's eye.

"You good for another?" The man called out.

Fitz flashed him a grin, thinking of how good the drink felt going down his throat even in the presence of unwanted company.

"Definitely."

Several minutes later, when he started making his way back, he was pleasantly surprised to find a refilled glass and no Billy in his spot. He quickly slid back into his seat and took a long sip, finally able to fully enjoy its smoothness on his tongue.

An unfortunately familiar voice soon broke through his reverie. He glanced further down the bar to find Billy standing near a woman who must have just walked in.

Though he tried desperately not to, Fitz couldn't help but overhear their conversation – or rather, Billy's pathetic attempts at holding a conversation. His obnoxious voice droned on in detail about what was assumingly supposed to be an impressive recount of his work week.

There was something about accounts and rubbing elbows with big names, and even a mention of the new restaurant over on fifty-fourth. But by the sounds of it, his new conversation partner wasn't impressed in the slightest.

Fitz listened on, starting to take slight enjoyment in Billy's sad excuse of flirting. That is, until he noticed that Billy was starting to lean in a little too close and the woman refusing his advances seemed a little too uncomfortable. He was no expert at body language, but he knew when it was time to stop an asshole who wouldn't take a hint.

Grabbing his drink, he swiftly made his way over to them. The closer he got, the clearer their conversation became.

"Really? My middle name is Arnold, my cousins even used to call me Arnie growing up. Arnie and Alex – 'double A' for short – has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"The only _double A_ I need in my life are the batteries going in my vibrator."

A loud laugh erupted from Fitz before he could stop himself. The sound caught their attention and they immediately turned in his direction.

Though he wasn't able to see around Billy enough to get a clear look at the woman who had suffered through his advances, his laughter was enough to spark hers, and she soon joined him.

By the time they finished, his cheeks hurt and he could tell that his face was probably red. Billy continued to stand between them, stoic and wholly unamused.

"I see obviously neither of you are gonna give me a break tonight." He glanced behind Fitz, looking at a booth in the back corner. "But that lovely group of women have been trying to catch my eye for ten minutes, so I'll take my company where it'll be more appreciated."

Before they had a chance to respond, he stalked off with a firm grip on his drink and a look of determination in his eyes.

"Bye, Arnie" she called out dismissively.

Fitz chuckled once more before turning to finally get a clear look at her.

He could feel his eyes widen unintentionally the moment he did. She was…beautiful. All smooth skin, and doe eyes, and full lips. He had the immediate, irrational desire to place a hand to her cheek, and for a moment he couldn't blame Billy for trying so desperately to earn her affection.

She was, quite literally, breathtaking. Especially in that fitted black dress; it seemed to have been made for her and her alone. It hugged her perfectly, and – coupled with the enticing, deep red painted on her lips and the soft waves of dark tresses framing her face – made her appear effortlessly sexy.

"Thanks for helping me get rid of him."

He blinked, taking a moment for it to register that she was talking to him.

"Don't mention it." He glanced in the direction Billy had left, seeing that he was leaning over the booth with the same group of women he had seen earlier. "Although, I'm sure they're not my biggest fans right now."

"True," she giggled. "I bet he's telling them all sorts of lies about fake middle names and lunch meetings on his yacht."

They shared another laugh, and he let his eyes scan the large room before returning his gaze to her. As he did, he caught sight of her eyes quickly shifting before they could meet his and instead focusing on her drink on the counter.

He watched curiously as she cleared her throat and reached for the tumbler. Before he realized it was happening, his casual glance gave way to a full-blown stare.

She turned to him after a long moment, an eyebrow raised.

"Would you like to sit?"

He looked away, suddenly embarrassed. He wanted to retreat and enjoy his drink in solitude like he had planned, returning to reality only after he had rid himself of the week's stench. But there was something about the way she was looking at him – about the intrigue that darkened her eyes – and the slight, hesitant way her lips curved upwards that made him want to stay.

He nodded, mumbling a quick, "Thanks," as he slid into the seat beside hers and unceremoniously began to finish off the glass that had become glued to his hand.

Neither spoke, and he couldn't help but note how calming the silence felt while sitting with her – a stark contrast to his interactions with Billy moments before.

Suddenly, she turned to him. "So what brings you to Angel's?"

He took a moment to think it over, trying his best to not focus on how he could now smell her perfume and to ignore the goosebumps rising on his arms.

"A bad week and some good luck," he finally answered.

She grinned. "How very vague of you."

He chuckled and ran a hand over the back of his neck. "There's not much more to it, I promise."

Her grin widened for a moment before she nodded and returned her attention to her drink. Unable to tear his eyes away, he watched as she raised the glass to her lips. When she set it down, a faint trace of her lipstick remained on its edge and he swallowed the groan threatening to escape from him.

"What about you?" He tried, desperate to shift his attention. "Why are you here?"

Just as he did, she thought it over briefly.

"A good week and some bad luck."

They shared a laugh at her return of words.

Their laughter dissolved into another comfortable quiet, disturbed soon afterwards by loud chuckles from across the room. They both turned to see Billy now tucked into the booth with the women he had been leaning over before. Enthusiastic cheers and giggles escaped from their little corner and seemed to fill the entire bar.

"I bet they're using him for free drinks."

He nearly jumped at the sound of her voice so close to his ear. She was leaning into him, and when he turned slightly, her face was directly in front of his.

Their eyes locked, and in a moment quite unlike anything he had ever experienced before, he felt suddenly out of breath. His mouth opened slightly. He knew he wanted to say something, but for the life of him couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he continued to stare in stunned silence, simply taking her in.

Her expression matched his, and in that sliver of dazed reality, he wondered if she could feel it too.

A loud crash followed by a string of curses jolted them from their brief trance, and they immediately leaned away from one another. The sudden distance between them felt even odder than whatever the hell it was they had just experienced, and he gripped his glass, trying hopelessly to focus on anything else.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her shifting in her seat.

Finally, after several tense minutes, she spoke, "I didn't catch your name."

He appreciated the distraction. "Fitz," he offered with a slight smile in lieu of a handshake. "Alex, right?"

When she didn't immediately respond, he turned to find that she seemed to be studying him.

"Yeah," she eventually answered.

Before he had a chance to consider her response, she raised a hand to adjust his lapel. His breath caught at the motion, and she soon removed her hand with a shy smile.

"Sorry, that was bothering me."

Unable to do much else, he muttered a quick, "Thanks."

Her gaze lingered on his suit for a few seconds more before she continued, "So what impressive job frustrated you so much you're willing to risk someone spilling beer on this fancy Brooks Brothers suit?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You know your suits," he noted, purposefully evading her question. He had no intention of explaining that the suit was a perk of his job. Apparently, Red Giant Jets required anyone associated with the company to look as professionally topnotch as possible, and his usual suits simply didn't make the cut.

"Almost as well as I know my wine," she returned with a grin.

He quickly jumped on the chance to redirect the conversation. "And yet, you're drinking – what is that, scotch?"

She shook her head. "Bourbon."

He made a face that was met almost immediately with her laughter. By now, the sound was music to his ears, and he knew he'd have it ingrained in his memory for days to come.

"Well," she began once her laughter subsided, "I'm willing to ignore your ridiculous – and _wrong_ – bias just because I'm enjoying your company. But try to come for my Bordeaux or Shiraz and we'll have a problem."

He chuckled. "Noted."

They didn't speak after that and, for the first time all week, he felt himself truly start to relax.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he found that she was looking at him intently. She didn't bother to avert her gaze, and something about the brazenness of it all sent a shot of excitement straight through him.

He cleared his throat. "Is my suit crooked again?"

"No." She shook her head slowly. "It's perfect."

Her own words seemed to catch her by surprise and she finally turned away from him, reaching for her drink.

Before he could stop himself, he grabbed the glass from her hand and replaced it with his own.

"Here," he prompted. "So you can see my preference isn't as wrong as you think it is."

She eyed him, then the drink, and he could feel his confidence quickly slipping away.

 _What the hell was he thinking?_

But then, with a slight smirk, she chose to indulge him.

He swallowed hard, watching her lips press against where his once were. The sight made his entire body go rigid, and he silently cursed himself for thinking this to be a good idea. His face felt hot, and he clenched his hand into a fist to resist the urge to loosen his tie.

She finished with a quiet hum and placed the tumbler back in front of him.

"Good…but not for me. I stand by what I said," she spoke with a smile.

He forced himself to look at anything besides her. He had been attracted to many women before, but never as intensely as he currently was. But then again, he was also sure he had ever seen someone quite as beautiful as she was.

When he didn't respond to her insistence, she continued, "I should introduce you to one of my favorite wines from California, you seem like the type to appreciate it."

Despite growing increasingly flustered, he couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'm originally from California," he admitted. "What gave it away?"

She beamed. "I knew it. You give off that whole mysterious, chill surfer vibe."

He laughed harder this time. "I've been neither chill nor a surfer in years – decades actually."

"And why is that?" She questioned with an amused smirk.

His laughter died down then, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Life."

She looked at him expectantly, obviously not impressed by his answer.

"I went to Boston for school, and I guess I just never looked back." It was the simplest version of the story. He could have stopped there, but something about her made him want to share more. "My, uh, my ex-wife and I moved to New Jersey when she got a job offer there. Things were good for a while…or at least ok, but then they weren't and I guess I ended up here."

He regretted bringing it up as soon as he finished. Here he was, having a good time with amazing company for the first time in far too long, and he had to bring up details of his past – regardless of how vague – to ruin it.

But she didn't seem fazed by his admission. Instead, seeming to take note of his change in disposition, she placed a comforting hand on his knee and offered an encouraging smile.

"Hey," she waited until he had given her his full attention, "shit happens, right?"

A relieved, appreciative grin stretched across his face. "Right."

Suddenly Al walked over, wiping his hands with a towel.

"You two alright?"

She turned to smile at him. "We're great. Thanks, Al."

When he walked away and she returned her attention to him, he noticed that her hand was still on his knee. Slowly, he placed a hand over hers, releasing a breath when she didn't pull away.

"So what job has you coming here so often you're friends with the bartender?" He was far more interested in learning something about her than diverging any dirty little secrets about himself.

"I think that's fair." She smirked. "I just got a promotion, actually. I'm an account director at CV Public Relations." She sighed. "It's a bit more responsibility, but work is great. It's just everything else that's…complicated."

He nodded, not wanting to push her to reveal more than she was comfortable with. Instead, he snuck a glance at her left hand and let the absence of a ring satisfy his most adamant curiosities.

From there, they fell into easy conversation. Twenty minutes passed and they exchanged bar horror stories of the past, another fifteen minutes and they had shared hobbies that didn't involve alcohol. He learned that she ran to decompress and swam to shake off a bad week – in fact, she had even been captain of her high school swim team. He particularly liked the way her eyes lit up when she recalled their championship win her senior year.

He recalled the days when he did surf, and admitted that he had taken to chopping wood some time in his young adulthood – a revelation which made her eyes go wide with intrigue as she confessed she would love to see it sometime.

"I'm sure I could make that happen," he promptly invited her. "I'll let you know the next time I'm heading upstate."

They laughed, but the intensity in their locked gaze indicated there was sincerity behind the invitation.

He didn't want the night to ever end, but because it had to, he'd take the promise of seeing her again as a close second.

Suddenly, as if to silently assure him that she was on the same page, she shifted the hand still resting on his knee and laced her fingers through his.

An unfamiliar warmth filled him at the feel of her hand entangled with his, and his eyebrows furrowed, giving away his surprise. He immediately wondered if she could feel it too, and he watched closely as she bit down on her lip – seemingly trying to mask her own reaction.

Reason gave way to instinct not for the first time that night, and without warning, he placed a hand on her cheek like he had wanted to do earlier. She leaned into him almost as soon as he made contact, and he marveled at how unbelievably right it felt.

Acting with only that feeling in mind, he moved his thumb to caress her bottom lip, prompting her to slowly release it. Even after she did, he continued the motion; he was enraptured by the sensation of her soft breaths caressing his skin, and he could feel his own breath catching in response.

He wasn't sure how they must've looked to other patrons, or even how long they had been so engrossed in one another.

But, truth be told, he didn't care.

For the past few months – years, even – his life had been a turbulent mess, with one frustrating disappointment blending into the next. And for the first time in recent memory, he felt grounded. It was a sense of peace so overwhelming that it nearly suffocated him, and made his head spin in the best way.

Slowly, he moved his thumb and raised his other hand so that he was cupping both her cheeks.

Again, she practically melted into his touch.

He wasn't sure who began to lean in first – or when exactly the rest of the world faded away – but, suddenly, their lips were pressed together.

The kiss was feather light, and yet, completely knocked the wind out of him. It was soft and innocent, and sent him into a state of dreamlike bliss. Reality felt simultaneously suspended and heightened, and he wasn't sure if he ever wanted it to end.

But then, she was pulling back with a small, quiet gasp, and specks of the concrete world around them tainted the edges of his rose-colored vision.

"Alex," he whispered, his voice made hoarse by wonderment.

She stood quickly. "I should –" but before she could go anywhere, she collided with none other than Billy.

He had clearly long moved on from his first drink, and his sloppiness coupled with the impact of their collision sent the contents of his glass spilling onto them both.

"Shit," she hissed.

Fitz stood immediately to help her, barely noticing Billy's drunken, half-assed apology as he continued past with a brunette on his arm.

She accepted the napkins he handed her, and thinking nothing of it, he began to dab at the spill along with her. Unexpectedly, her hands stopped moving, and he looked up to find her stare fixed on him.

Fearing he had overstepped, he quickly removed his hand. But before he could apologize, he caught a flash of disappointment – so quick, yet so noticeable – transform her features at the sudden loss of contact.

And, in an instant, he understood that she wasn't nearly as flustered about the stain on her dress as she was about their kiss. She was just as captured by the moment as he was, and just as frightened by the distinct, all-consuming pull seeming to tether them together.

"I should try to go wash this out," she mumbled, more to herself than to him.

Then, she was gone.

But still, the draw to her remained.

Driven by something far stronger than desire, he started in the direction she had just walked. He followed her path all the way to the bathroom hidden deep in a corner and knocked on the door without a second thought.

"Alex? It's me."

The door opened after a moment, and she stood before him with an expression he couldn't quite place.

And then, before there was time for sense or self-control, his lips were on hers again.

This kiss was much rougher than their first – needier and more desperate. She backed them into the single room and he blindly slammed the door shut.

Somewhere in his mind he briefly registered locking the door and sitting her on the counter, but he was far too gone to really pay attention. All he could do was feel. Feel her soft, sweet lips against his, and his tongue entangling with hers. Feel her fingers pulling at the hair on the back of his head, and his own fingers gripping her side tightly.

He moved his hands to her thighs, and she responded immediately by wrapping her legs around him. Instinctively, his hips pressed further into hers. He let out a pleased groan to match her soft sigh at the contact.

Everywhere he felt her touch, his body buzzed – a distinct blaze of excitement and desire churning somewhere deep in his veins and rising to light the surface of his skin aflame. The burn was consuming and raged against all prior thoughts until he was left with nothing but persistent need.

" _Alex_ ," he breathed, when their lips parted for a moment.

But just as he leaned in again, she moved her hands to the side of his face, stopping him.

"Olivia."

He blinked in confusion as she rested her forehead against his.

"That's my real name," she explained, her voice barely above a whisper.

They remained quietly entangled for a moment before he nodded.

"Olivia," he repeated.

Then, they were kissing so passionately the sensation practically made him forget his own name. It was dizzying, and the room suddenly felt like a vacuum. They were so closely wrapped up in each other – with him on her, and her on him – there simply wasn't room for air to pass between them.

Later, he'd wonder if that was why they couldn't seem to stop themselves.

His hands inched up her thighs, and her legs began to open to give him more access. She tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth, and he brushed his fingers against the lace concealing her heat.

Her breath hitched at the same moment he let out a groan.

He was still for a moment.

" _Fitz_."

He could hear the urgency in her voice, see the plea written across her face.

Slowly, as if to tease them both, he let his fingers slip underneath the lace. He groaned again, this time at how wet she was for him.

The thought made his throat run dry and his hips involuntarily thrust forward.

She let out a whimper, and he immediately grew desperate to hear it again. He slid one finger into her, and then a second, simultaneously rubbing his thumb over her to provide friction.

She gasped, her hips grinding into his touch. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, and he shivered at the sensation of her uneven breaths hitting his skin.

"Livvie," it slipped out of his mouth without warning.

He didn't have to wonder if it sounded as natural to her as it did to him, as her quick breaths gave way to a soft moan.

Again, the sound drove him wild, and he tangled his free hand in her hair, gently pulling her head back and recapturing her lips with his own. Everything felt so frenzied and wet, and _good_ …damn was it good. Good to lose himself in her, good to feel her losing herself because of him, good to teeter on the edge of whatever mind-searing, blissful precipice it was they had stumbled upon together.

She was close, the increased writhing of her hips and her tightening grip on his arms told him as much. And he so desperately wanted to get her there…

"Come for me, sweetheart," He spoke lowly, somewhere between a beg and a command.

And she did, stilling for a brief second before letting go. Her faint cries fell against his lips, making his heart beat fiercely.

His hand didn't stop moving until she did, and their lips met in a brief, tender kiss before they finally moved apart.

She let out a breath. "I don't – that was…"

She stopped when he removed his fingers from her and immediately brought them to his mouth.

Her own mouth fell open at the sight of him sucking them clean, a small sound escaping the back of her throat.

"Amazing," he finished for her.

They shared a sly smile, silently acknowledging what had just transpired.

It was as though the fire between them had been partially extinguished. The smoke and haze had cleared, but left behind embers in the form of his own arousal still straining uncomfortably against his pants.

Though, as he took her in – warm, brown eyes still slightly dazed and lips made bee-stung by their kisses – and wanted nothing more than to coax an even sweeter release from her, he knew a bar bathroom wasn't the place. She deserved better. He wanted it to be better for her.

He suddenly remembered the handkerchief still stashed away in his pocket and reached for it.

"Here, let me help you get cleaned up."

But before he could do anything, he heard a small gasp and she jumped from the counter. He watched in confusion as she quickly adjusted her dress, her eyes locked on the scrap of silk in his hand.

"I need to go," she mumbled, turning to look herself once over in the mirror.

"Olivia?"

"We shouldn't – _I_ shouldn't have…I need to go." She walked around him, barely sparing a glance in his direction.

Baffled by her sudden change in demeanor, he tried to push aside the disappointment threatening to creep into his thoughts.

"I'm sorry," he called out, unsure of what else to do.

His words stopped her just as her hand grabbed the door knob, and she turned to him.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, "if I went too far."

She shook her head. "Please don't apologize, Fitz. If anything, I should be sorry for just running out like this. It's just…" she trailed off.

"Hey, it's ok. I get it," he offered with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

She returned the expression, uttering a quick, "Have a good night," before she was gone.

He stared at the closed door, trying to process what had just happened.

He hadn't been that rash in years, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Being with her didn't just feel good – it felt _right_. But she had left, and he felt like a piece of him had left with her. And that scared the hell out of him.

When enough time had passed, he looked himself over just as she had done and left the room. He decided that their encounter had left him buzzed enough and walked over to his seat to pay for his drinks.

Just as he pulled the money out, Al called out to him.

"Don't worry about it, buddy. She already paid for you."

Slightly taken aback, he nodded and shoved the cash back in his pocket.

 _She certainly had a way of making a first impression_.

He glanced around the bar a final time. He was sure that, even if he never came back, visions of Angel's and a certain pair of doe-eyes would haunt him in his dreams.

* * *

He was right about the dreams.

Nearly every night of the week that followed was consumed by dreams of her – her body pressed against his, her fingers tugging at his hair, her smile as they lay together.

Though he found himself enamored with every second of the dreams, they were making reality a living hell. He'd wake up in desperate need of a cold shower, and barely make it through a drive without getting carried away by his own thoughts.

Even Mr. Shaw had noticed his distracted disposition, showing mild, polite interest in him after he had so graciously returned the money that had been left in his back seat – and, still unknown to Shaw, found its way into his back pocket – on Monday morning. The man seemed grateful, if not a little surprised and hadn't even noticed the handkerchief that was still missing.

Their conversation was civil during the week, and then practically non-existent – that is, until Dean Shaw slid into his backseat on Friday evening with a very un-Dean Shaw-like grin plastered on his face.

"I hope you didn't have plans before ten, because I have myself a date tonight."

He did indeed have plans – plans that involved a particular bar and hopes of seeing a particular dream-dwelling beauty. But before Fitz could balk at his demands, he reminded himself that Shaw was his boss, meaning his personal expeditions were still in his job description.

"Where to?"

"I have a reservation at that new hibachi place a few blocks over. I'll point it out when we pass by, but we have to pick her up first." A boyish smile stretched to his ears at the declaration. "Do you remember that apartment from last week? That's the one."

Fitz nodded, he did remember. It seemed his fiancée…or non-fiancée troubles had cleared up.

"Do you think I should change my suit? Do we have time for me to stop home first? The reservation's at eight but we could – no that would be stupid…"

Fitz listened to him ramble, stifling a chuckle. He had never seen him so unnerved, and it amused him to no end.

He talked for nearly the whole ride, growing silent only when they pulled in front of the building.

"Shit," he spoke under his breath. "I should've gotten her flowers or something."

Fitz simply pulled into a spot and pointedly turned the car off.

He took a deep breath. "I guess this is it." He charged out of the car – quite dramatically – and made it to the apartment's entrance, where he stopped abruptly, adjusted his tie and finally stormed inside.

When he was finally out of eyesight, Fitz let out the laugh he had been holding in.

Being privy to the more private moments of his client's lives was a perk he had missed since his summers on the job during undergrad. In fact, it was probably the only enticing aspect of it after all these years. The thrill of driving around in fancy cars with celebrities, politicians and executives had worn off, and he was sure if it hadn't been for necessity, he would have never returned to the job he once saw as nothing more than a chance to get side cash during college.

But life had a funny way of screwing up his plans.

Come to think of it the only good thing he seemed to have going for him lately was –

 _Olivia._

He was sure his mind was playing tricks on him again. The door opened and there she was, sliding into his back seat. He blinked once, then twice, before staring at her hard through the rearview mirror.

Finally, she looked up and caught his gaze, her entire body going still as she did so.

"Babe, I need you to slide over a little more."

She didn't move, instead repeating his actions and blinking repeatedly to determine if she was seeing correctly.

He could tell that she felt just as he did – hoping it was real, simultaneously praying it wasn't.

But, try as he might, he had come to know her face too well through his dreams to deny what was right in front of him.

"Babe? Olivia?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I was completely blown away by the response to the first chapter. Thank you so so much to everyone who read/reviewed/shared, I really do appreciate it. It makes me even more excited to finally commit to and post this story. As always, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think.**

* * *

" _Babe, I need you to slide over a little more."_

" _Babe? Olivia."_

 **Two Days Earlier**

"I'm telling you, Abby, if he doesn't stop trying to control everything all the time, he's going to give himself a heart attack – or at least a pretty bad ulcer." Olivia readjusted the phone sandwiched between her shoulder and ear, leaning down to remove her heels.

"Well, that's Cyrus for you." Her friend spoke with a mouthful of what she could only assume to be something sweet and fresh out of the oven. "At least now he has you to ease some of the burden."

"Oh joy." She rolled her eyes playfully. "Let me know if it starts looking like I might blow steam out of my ears at any given second."

"You mean like anytime you're in a room with a certain someone's parents?"

She groaned, sinking back into the couch. "Please don't mention it, or them – or _him_."

"Sorry," Abby mumbled, and Olivia could practically see the insincere grimace pasted on her face. "Should we talk about another certain someone? Your good friend from the bar, perhaps?" She asked.

Olivia tried pointlessly to stop the wistful smile that tugged at her lips at the mere mention of him.

 _Fitz_.

He was…amazing. She had been struck by his laughter first, and his good looks second. He was a gorgeous mass of man, with a strong build made even more captivating by his well-fitted suit. She had tried hard not to stare, but that damn stray curl falling just above those beautiful blue eyes made it entirely too difficult.

His voice was deep with a near dreamlike quality, lulling her into a heavier daze of attraction every time he opened his mouth. And the conversation between them was so _easy_. They didn't get too personal, but it certainly felt like they had. She didn't even know his last name, and yet it was as though they had been friends for years.

And when he touched her – the _way_ he touched her – it made her feel alive in a way she had never known to be possible. It was thrilling, and overwhelming, and so unbelievably satisfying…

"Liv? Hello?"

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Sorry, I'm here."

Abby let out an amused laugh. "I see he's still got you all worked up."

"It's just…" she considered her words for a moment. "He was…special."

"Obviously," Abby responded immediately. "He must've been if you almost fucked him in the bathroom of a bar."

Olivia laughed despite herself and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't even know what happened. One second we were talking, and the next – it was like all this tension just exploded, and it felt…right. Is that weird to say?"

"No," Abby spoke with another mouthful. "Which is why I don't understand why you ran out, instead of grabbing his sexy ass and running to the nearest hotel."

Olivia sighed. She had been turning the moment over in her mind ever since it happened. That night, she battled several hours of restlessness before finally grabbing a glass of her favorite red to put her mind and body at ease. She woke up with a headache and a dazed sense of disbelief about the night before.

She mulled over it for two days when yet another dream of him led her to bare her soul to her best friend. There were simply too many emotions to work through on her own – guilt, regret, longing.

"I told you," she spoke lowly, as if sharing a secret not intended to fall on too many ears. "Something reminded me of Dean, and I just, I couldn't do it."

Abby huffed. "Even after all those hours we spent getting you ready. You were _supposed_ to get laid, Liv, remember?"

She did remember. It had been a little over two weeks since she was last in direct contact with Dean, and, sensing her friend's growing annoyance at his constant attempts to reach out to her, Abby deemed that Friday Olivia's "one day for a one night stand." After much arguing and resistance, Olivia agreed, acknowledging that it had been far too long since she had a fun night out just for herself.

She had decided to take the name Alex for the night as a final, innocent deviation from the usual. For just one night, she wanted to pretend – pretend that her personal dealings didn't give her regular migraines, that she didn't feel as though the world was constantly resting on her shoulders, and that all she needed from life was smooth liquor and a handsome stranger.

But things with Fitz felt real – too real, and he made her not want to pretend anymore. It was what had driven her to share her real name and to act more recklessly than she had since college. In that moment, she truly wanted him with everything in her.

But then he pulled out that handkerchief, and all she could see was Dean, and she was instantly flooded with guilt.

Though things hadn't ended on good terms by any stretch of the imagination, there seemed to be so much unfinished business between her and Dean. He had visited her apartment more than once, called regularly and left sad, desperate phone calls begging for her attention. And even through all her anger, she couldn't help but feel bad for not giving him the time of day.

Yet, admittedly, when she woke up the morning after, still in a fog of semi-recovered memories, she hadn't felt nearly as bad on his behalf as she did for Fitz. It seemed unfair to tangle him in the messy affairs of her personal life beyond that night. And something told her if they had gone any further, they would have had much more than one shared night between them.

"I honestly think you should just tell that man to fuck off," Abby continued after a moment. "Especially after how he's acted in the past two months alone."

Olivia closed her eyes, knowing immediately where this conversation was going.

"I mean, he spends weeks trying to talk you out of taking a promotion you worked your ass off for, and for what reason? Because he thought it'd be 'too much to handle' – _bullshit_!"

Olivia jumped as she yelled into the receiver.

"He didn't want you to take it because between his parents' outdated beliefs and his own ego, he couldn't take that you'd be making almost just as much as him. And _then_ when Daddy handed him the keys to the kingdom, and he realized you had no intention of being Suzy Homemaker, he proposed in front of all his pretentious, fuddy-duddy co-workers just to show off how much of a 'power couple' you'd be – after you told him you weren't ready to get married, might I add."

Just the reference to the incident, alone, made Olivia roll her eyes.

It had been a complete mess of a night – an office party turned full ambush when her oh-so-lovely boyfriend of just over two years got down on one knee.

She originally thought it odd when he suddenly become so proud to share her newly acquired position during the night. She hoped it was because he finally got his head out of his ass and stopped swimming in the shit stream of his father's particularly unbearable brand of misogynoir.

But then, as he pulled out a ring and made some grand speech about their years in college together, their reconnection just a few years earlier and their currently rising business prospects – especially with her handling Red Giant Jets' very own PR account over at her firm – she knew exactly what he was doing. He was making a spectacle of their relationship and turning it into a chance to boost his own image. He was proving a point to investors and to the few particularly defiant brown-nosers who had dared to question his adequacy following his recent appointment to CEO in the wake of his father's retirement.

Of course, his naysayers hadn't been entirely wrong, given that his father would still be running things; only this way, he'd get to do so from whatever island he ran off to with his wife (or one of his several mistresses), while his precious son would finally get to put that barely-earned business degree to use. And if said son was to share a marital bed with a direct line to one of the company's most important assets, well, there couldn't be too much said of his powerlessness.

When he finished speaking and all eyes fell on her, she found herself too shocked and too embarrassed to deny him. She nodded silently, tears of anger – mistaken for those of joy – building in her eyes.

She welcomed any and all congratulations with as much sincerity as possible, and mustered up enough of a farce to engage with Dean throughout the rest of the night. However, the moment they slid into their Uber, the smile fell and she could immediately feel her face heat with rage.

She still didn't entirely remember everything that was said, but she did recall the look of embarrassed shock on his face and amusement on that of their driver. They pulled up to her apartment not a moment too soon, and she threw the ring at him, slamming the car door in his face without looking back.

"I don't know, Abby." By now she had removed her blazer and tucked her feet under her legs to settle further into the couch. "We've been together for almost two-and-a-half years, and to just throw that away after one fight?"

Abby scoffed, and Olivia knew it sounded just as ridiculous to her as she thought it did the moment it left her own mouth.

"That wasn't _one_ fight, Liv. That was every fight – every problem you guys have had since you first started dating, every reason why you don't want to marry him."

She knew this to be true, and yet, she couldn't bring herself to just consider that the end of them. She had invested far too much time and energy into making sure they stayed afloat for it all to sink at once.

When she didn't respond, Abby groaned into the receiver.

"One date."

"What?" Olivia scrunched her eyebrows in confusion.

"Agree to go out on one more date with him, and if things don't go well, you end it officially, for good."

She nodded at the idea. It was good, and seemed like a fair enough solution to everything.

"Ok," she agreed. "One date."

* * *

 **Present Day**

"Mathew told me to try the salmon, but I was thinking of the – Liv?"

She snapped her head in his direction.

"Huh?"

He grinned. "You ok? Or have I lost my touch already?"

Though his words were playful, she could see the nervousness behind them. He was genuinely trying, but she still couldn't bring herself to give him her full attention.

She had spent the last twenty minutes staring out the window, her mind running a mile a minute – all the while, he attempted valiantly to navigate the rough waters of polite, if not slightly tense, conversation.

"No, no you're good." She smiled, figuring she could at least give him that much. "This is nice…I think I might actually try the salmon."

He nodded and returned his attention to the menu, while her eyes drifted once more to the window.

She wasn't sure where he had gone after they got out of the car, but something in her hoped to spot the black Lincoln, and more importantly, to spot him in the driver's seat.

She had been in complete shock when she met the gaze of a familiar pair of blue eyes through the rearview mirror, her own eyes practically burning a hole in the back of his seat during the ride to the restaurant.

She and Dean shared pleasantries in the backseat – her words failing her more often than not – and he eventually took to recalling random stories he had heard from coworkers since their last time together. But she barely heard any of it. She was entranced instead by the profile that had started to appear regularly in her dreams, by the trimmed curls that had slipped seamlessly between her hands, by the calloused fingers gripping the steering wheel that had fit so perfectly –

"We'll take your finest bottle of Pinot Blanc."

She blinked, once again bringing herself back to the present moment.

When the waiter retreated, Dean folded his hands and leaned onto the table.

"So how have you been, Liv, really?"

She looked away, smoothing over the napkin on her lap before answering, "Like I said, I've been good."

"You forget how well I know you." He looked at her pointedly. "You've been distracted all night, and you didn't even listen to their wine selection. So what's wrong?"

His remark made her smile briefly, and she finally met his gaze. "I just have a lot on my mind right now."

He nodded. The waiter returned to fill their glasses, and as they ordered, she could feel his eyes still focused intently on her.

When they were alone again, he raised a single brow and asked, "Is it the job? Is it too much for you?"

 _And there it was._

She glared at him. Hard.

He immediately leaned back, swallowing thickly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have – you said you hated when I did that, and I'm sorry."

Her gaze softened and she crossed her arms, inviting him to continue.

"I was listening to what you said that day, Liv. Really, I was, and you were right about all of it…" He tugged on his ear, a telltale sign that he was actually nervous. "I should be supportive, and not just when it benefits me. And I was wrong that day to pull the stunt I did – but I do want to marry you, just…when you're ready."

She nodded. It was certainly a step up from his past apologies, usually a string of mildly apathetic variations of "Babe, I'm sorry, ok?" followed more often than not by a company-issued gift basket or – when things got really bad – something expensive with lots of diamonds.

He sighed, and she knew he could tell she still had a foot out the door.

"I've screwed up a lot, I know. But, Liv," he was pleading now, his eyes wide, "I don't know how to do this thing without you by my side. I can't – I don't know how to function when there isn't an us. These past few weeks have been worse than finals junior year."

She was moved by his earnestness and allowed herself to giggle softly at the memory.

"I had the flu, you had food poisoning and Cheryl sent us the wrong study sheet."

"I swear, if you didn't have those professors in the palm of your hand –"

" _I_ still would've been fine, but you might've graduated a semester or two late," she finished, and they fell into easy laughter for the first time in what seemed like forever.

He was smiling when they quieted, and she could feel her guard start to let down.

"I don't know what I would've done back then without you."

She shrugged. "Simple. You would've failed."

They laughed again, finding humor in the truth of her statement.

During their days at Georgetown, sometime after she had completely decimated his argument during the first week of intro philosophy, he had taken up a one-sided rivalry against her. However, when it became obvious he wouldn't get anywhere trying to best her, he decided to instead seek out her help. Though she was known to be the youngest in their class by two years, she had one of the sharpest minds, and her tutoring lifted his tragic GPA, saving him from inevitable failure and wasted tuition money.

At first, she was entirely unimpressed by him. She was young, smart, and fiercely independent – a necessity following her mother's death several years earlier. She had no time for air-headed sons loaded with far too large trust funds to carry them through life, especially not ones who tried pathetically to challenge her.

But then, when she relented and began tutoring him, they started spending extensive hours outside of class together. And even amidst all her academic aspirations, she was still a young woman who appreciated attractive young men; and Dean Shaw, with his chiseled jaw, and sandy brown hair and hazel eyes was a sight for sore eyes.

They became good friends, surprising almost everyone in a ten-mile radius who knew anything about them. As it seemed, the law stood that opposites attract. She was studious, determined and every professor's dream; he was unpredictable, unfocused and a ball of explosive energy. She taught him to study, and he introduced her to an impressive array of liquor. She helped him keep his head out of the clouds – or from in between a girl's thighs – when midterms came around, and he warded off the ever-present flock of guys vying for her attention, citing always as an excuse: "They're too old for you, babe."

Things were fun with Dean. By junior year, they were best friends, best flirty friends who always seemed to teeter on the edge of something more. But then graduation came the next year, and they lost contact and that was the end of that.

That is, until they ran into one another at a work conference in Kentucky of all places. They spent hours catching up and became so wrapped up in their conversation that she missed her late flight back to New York. Upon learning that they both shared a home state, he promptly invited her to ride with him on the private plane he had borrowed from his father's company – the same company he was looking to take over in the near future.

He spent much of the flight commenting on how excited he was to be reunited with her, how he believed fate was giving him a second chance. And then, finally prompted by her curious gaze, he admitted that he had been in love with her for who knows how long during their time in undergrad. He continued, admitting that nearly every month of their senior year he swore he would ask her out, and every month he chickened out until it was too late.

She was shocked, to say the least, and eventually admitted her own infatuation with a laugh and a shake of her head.

" _I would've said 'yes' if you asked, you know. I liked you, too… a lot."_

His face lit up immediately, and he didn't waste a second, asking her out right then and there.

She was surprised again by his forwardness and told him she'd think about it, grateful the plane had just begun its descent. They exchanged numbers, and in true Dean fashion, he hunted down her apartment and sent her flowers every day for nearly two weeks before she finally relented, and the rest was history.

At the time, she loved how being with him made her feel – like they were back in his dorm, eating cold pizza at 2 a.m., imagining all the possibilities that lay ahead at daybreak. But, as time went on, his youthful charm started to seem more like masked immaturity, and she found herself wondering if, at thirty-four, he was really any different than he had been at twenty.

"Alright, here we go." Their waiter returned, placing their food down on the table. "Enjoy."

Dean didn't bother looking at his plate, his attention still focused solely on Olivia.

"Liv," he reached over the table, taking her hand in his, "I know I don't have a right to, but I'm just asking for one more chance."

His face was serious, his voice desperate and she considered him for a long moment, a surge of emotions rushing through her.

He was an absolute idiot at times, and a complete pain in the ass when he wanted to be, but this was Dean, her Dean – the first real friend she let in after things like death and abandonment had stolen her innocence and hardened her to life. And as her longest relationship to date, he was one of the only constants in her life.

So why, as he was laying it all on the table in hopes of holding them together, was she so tempted to say no? Even worse, why was she still fighting off thoughts of a pair of piercing blue eyes and an enticingly deep baritone voice?

"Please, Liv," he begged once more. "I meant what I said that day on the plane. I love you, and I'll do anything it takes to show you."

She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to focus only on the here and now.

"Liv?"

* * *

"I'm so sorry about this, Liv. Are you sure you don't want me to tell them I can't come in?"

She smiled sympathetically at his worried expression.

"It's ok, I promise. Besides," she paused as he opened the car door for her, "I like to see you taking care of business."

He grinned, following her into the car.

"You do?"

She nodded, biting down on a smile as he wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

"Well maybe I can show you how I take care of other business…"

The sound of a throat clearing interrupted them, and she could almost immediately feel her body go rigid with realization.

"Where to, Mr. Shaw?"

She looked up, meeting his eyes once again in the rearview mirror, his stare hard and locked intently on her.

"Oh, I need to head back to the office to take care of a few things, but can you drop Liv off afterwards? Thanks." Dean placed his arm around her shoulder and leaned into the seat.

As they pulled off and made their way to his office, she found herself unable to relax into his touch. Back in the restaurant, when she agreed to give them another go, she tried her best to be fully present with him. By the time he received an emergency call on his work phone, things almost felt normal between them again.

 _Almost_. Because, as Dean encouraged her to try some of his meal, her mind drifted off to thoughts of a glass of scotch replacing her bourbon – of the thrill of tasting that same scotch on Fitz's tongue an hour later. And because, as Dean ran a hand through his hair, she realized she had never felt compelled to reach for it in a moment of passion, like she had with Fitz.

And even now, as she sat with Dean, she could feel Fitz's presence filling the space between them. It was impossible to ignore, and she could sense the sinking feeling of regret settling in the pit of her stomach.

"I don't know how late I'll be there, but I think I might stay at Dad's penthouse," Dean spoke.

She knew he was waiting for her to invite him over to her place…or to invite herself over to the penthouse. But, aside from being in no mood to actually sleep with him any time soon, she couldn't deny that spending the night with him in any capacity felt wrong.

And agreeing to do so in front of Fitz felt especially like betrayal.

She shook her head at the thought. Logically, she knew it didn't make sense; she had only known him for a few hours, and they were two consenting – and, at the time, single – adults who had engaged in what was little more than a romp easily rivaled by most teenagers.

Yet, somewhere in the back of her mind, she also knew it certainly felt much more serious than her tryst with Jonah Elliot at boarding school, and more intense than anything she had experienced with Dean.

"Do you wanna go out for breakfast in the morning?" He questioned when she didn't give him the response he was looking for.

"I can't," she replied before she could even remember why. "I'm…meeting Abby. We're brainstorming new promotional plans for the bakery."

"Oh." She didn't miss the slight annoyance on his face at the mention of her best friend. "Well, what about lunch, or maybe dinner?"

She was relieved when the car came to a stop in front of his office.

"I'll let you know," she offered as an answer.

Just as he started to get out of the car, he turned to peck her lips.

"See you later, babe."

She fought the urge to wipe her mouth, growing embarrassed as she realized Fitz was watching them through the mirror.

The air shifted immediately once the door closed, and she willed herself to look at anything other than him. He, on the other hand, turned so that he was looking directly at her.

"Home, Ms…"

His prompt encouraged her to finally meet his gaze.

The moment she did, she sighed. "Fitz."

"You can call me Mr. Grant, Ms. –"

"Pope," she finally finished, admittedly thrown off by his professional demeanor.

He nodded. "So home, Ms. Pope?"

She sighed again and turned to look out the window. "Yes, please."

The ride was unbearably tense, so much so she considered walking the rest of the way after only ten minutes. Her eyes drifted to him often. She took in the slight clench of his jaw, the way his fingers seemed to grip the steering wheel extra tightly. And at nearly every red light, she found that – despite herself – she'd look for his eyes in the rearview mirror. Not once was she disappointed.

When they were only a block away, she couldn't take the unease any longer.

"Fitz, look –"

He cleared his throat, and she rolled her eyes.

" _Mr. Grant_ , I just wanted to say that you and I last Friday, and now this, it isn't…" she couldn't find the words. It was a first for her. She always knew what to say, and when to say it. It was what made her so brilliant at her job.

But being here with him, with so much tension weighing down on them, she had no clue how to approach the situation.

"It's fine, Oli – _Ms. Pope_ ," he corrected himself. "We're both adults, and you did say things were complicated, so I'd appreciate if we could just move past our…brief history, and keep a strictly professional relationship…" He trailed off, and she couldn't help but notice how unconvinced he sounded by his own words.

But as he pulled in front of her building and turned to her with a look in his eyes that seemed so much like defeat, she knew she'd agree to whatever he thought was best going forward.

"Ok." She nodded with a small, friendly smile that didn't quite mask her displeasure. "Thanks for the ride." Just as she pushed open the door, she heard him sigh, and she paused, not entirely sure of what she hoped would happen next. Finally, when he didn't say anything, she glanced at him one last time before getting out. "Have a good night."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Happy Tuesday! As always, thank you to everyone who read/reviewed the last chapter, I really loved seeing the responses (and I see Dean's getting no love from anyone haha). I hope you enjoy, and (even if not) let me know what you think.**

* * *

He couldn't take his eyes off of her.

Her head tilted back with laughter, and his insides warmed at just the thought of the sound.

"Fitz? Hellooo, earth to Fitz."

He shoved a hand out of his face, turning to meet the amused smirk of his colleague.

"What, Walker?"

Marcus raised an eyebrow, glancing around him to see out the driver's side window.

"Who has you so distracted you didn't even notice me spilling sandwich meat in the Lincoln?"

He eyed the seat once over, giving him a pointed look. "Trust me, I noticed."

"Hey," Marcus continued, ignoring him, "isn't that bossman's woman?"

Fitz tried to ignore the usual wave of jealousy that passed through him at the thought. It had been two weeks since their uncomfortable – if not downright awkward – reunion, and he was still struggling to temper the flare of emotions that had fallen over him that night.

He still couldn't believe the sick irony of it all.

Out of every person in the city, in the state – hell, in the world – she had to be attached to Dean Shaw.

He wanted to be angry, and he had been initially. As he watched the two of them interact, a caustic flare of resentment settled in the pit of his stomach. It kept him awake that night, and he spent hours thinking over his frustration. He was angry at her for getting under his skin the way she had – or at least, he thought he was – because when the shock wore off, and he realized he wasn't angry so much as he was…upset, his only frustrations were directed at himself for being so affected in the first place.

Why had he allowed himself to become so hung up on her?

He wasn't one for relationships, and hadn't been for a long time, so why couldn't he shake off his attraction to her?

He wanted to regret that night, to hate that he had never come to know how sweet her laugh sounded, or how beautiful her smile was when it reached her eyes, or how much better bourbon tasted after it had passed through her lips, but he simply couldn't bring himself to do it.

"This is the last time you're eating in my car, Walker," he spoke suddenly.

He preferred not to dwell on it too long.

He tried instead to find solace in the fact that she hadn't ridden with him since that night. He had an inkling that she was actively avoiding him. It seemed she had taken his all-professionalism all-the-time approach and one-upped him. And while that made it easier to attempt to move on, this was still the fourth time he had spotted her in the office's parking garage for what he could only assume were regular lunch dates with his boss. Normally, he'd only catch a glimpse of her before she slid into her car, but today, she had apparently run into someone she knew, and they had been talking for close to ten minutes.

As Marcus mumbled under his breath and proceeded to remove crumbs from his seat, Fitz stole another glance at her.

She looked impeccably put together in a black and white suit. He didn't know much, but he was sure it was expensive – the red soles of her shoes and the Prada emblem on her purse all but confirming his suspicions.

She always looked so beautiful, and he found he could never quite bring himself to look away. Part of him hoped that Shaw at least had the decency to tell her every chance he got.

"There." Marcus grinned. "I think I cleaned all of it up, so you can't complain about a seat no one ever sits in anyways."

Fitz rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Next time, lunch is in your car."

"No way." He suddenly reclined the seat, placing his hands behind his head. "Charlene's a beauty, and she's staying that way."

Fitz couldn't help but chuckle. Marcus reminded him so much of himself when he was younger. He had been working with Red Giant Jets for a few months as a means of paying his way through law school and still found joy in the job. He loved his car more than he'd ever loved any woman and made a point of always discussing with Fitz whatever secrets happened to be spilled in his backseat.

Sometimes, Fitz envied his enthusiasm. He was a man with a plan, and a successful one at that. Marcus Walker was going places, and no one could tell him otherwise.

"Hey, wait, you never finished that story about what happened at the bar."

Marcus Walker could also sometimes be a pain in the ass and rarely ever realized it.

"I, uh, I don't think there was much to tell," Fitz tried to cover himself.

"Wrong," he responded immediately. "You, Doug and I had lunch that Monday, and you couldn't wipe that shit-eating grin off your face the entire time. You said you met a woman, and then Shaw called you to take him to that meeting before you could finish."

He held back a groan.

Since when had his closest confidants become his twenty-five and sixty-seven-year-old coworkers?

Conversation between them was often civil, and he'd even go as far as to say they were work friends, but he rarely divulged anything too personal. But he could distinctly remember having a particularly good dream the night before – after having fallen asleep to House Hunters – that involved Olivia and a hammock in Hawaii. Evidently, it had left him in a much better mood than he recalled.

He shrugged, and glanced out the window to see that she was no longer there.

"There was a woman, we talked, and…I found out she's not interested."

"Oh." Marcus sat up, checking his watch. "That sucks, but look I have to run. I'll see you when I see you."

He nodded, bidding him farewell. He checked his own watch to see that he had a little over half-an-hour left of his own lunch break and decided to take a quick nap. He was set to make two trips to the airport to pick up some big-name clients, and he was certain the traffic would leave him exhausted by the end of it.

Unfortunately, just as he closed his eyes and leaned into his seat, the distinct sound of a car failing to start kept him from fully relaxing. He listened to the sound for several minutes before growing annoyed. After finally having had enough, he started his own car and began driving through the parking garage slowly in search of the source.

He quickly eased to a stop the moment he recognized the SUV stuck sputtering in its spot.

Cursing under his breath, he watched Olivia try pointlessly to start her car again.

 _For fuck's sake._

It was like he couldn't stay away even when he wanted to. He considered just returning to his own spot and leaving her be; but as he took in the sight of her frustrated face, he knew if the sound didn't, his own guilt would lead him right back to her anyways.

Pulling into an empty spot beside her and rolling down his window, he honked lightly to get her attention. She looked in his direction, her eyes widening the moment she spotted him, before she finally rolled down her window.

"Hi."

"Hi." He cleared his throat, finding it suddenly dry as he took her in. "Do you need help?"

She nodded, her eyes giving away her embarrassment. "Is it that obvious?"

He chuckled despite himself. "Only to anyone within a two-mile radius."

She grimaced playfully and exited her car, prompting him to do the same.

Soon they were face-to-face, and he realized it was the closest they had been since the night at the bar. He shoved his hands in his pockets and suppressed all immediate memories of wrapping his arms around her, of pressing his lips against hers.

He didn't realize he was staring until she cleared her throat and noticeably shifted her gaze to something in the distance.

"I think it might be my battery." She stepped aside, allowing him access to her car.

He slid into the seat, noting how little space there was for him. It reminded him of just how much smaller she was compared to him, and he couldn't stop the thoughts of how perfectly they seemed to have meshed together when she had her legs wrapped around him. Against his better judgment, he glanced at her. She appeared to be stifling a giggle, obviously also taking note of their size difference.

"You can adjust the seat if you want."

He shook his head, instead trying to start the car once. He listened intently to the resulting, low whine, before getting back out.

"I think you're right." He moved to open the hood of the car, with her following close behind. "Do you have jumper cables?"

She left his side for a moment, and by the time she returned, he had the hood propped up.

"Here you go."

As he reached for the cables, their hands touched, and he was flooded by the same sense of warmth he felt the first time they linked. He clenched his jaw and willed himself to ignore it.

He needed to move past this – whatever _this_ was. Obviously she was set on doing so, and he was certainly no stranger to one night stands, so why couldn't he get over her and the little time they had spent together?

He didn't dare to look at her this time, instead hooking up the cables and walking over to his car. When the hood was opened and the other end of the cables connected, he sat in the driver's seat.

He started his car, and after a moment, she sat in her own car to try, smiling widely when it finally worked.

"You're a lifesaver. Thank you so much," she spoke, now smiling directly at him.

He immediately pushed aside thoughts of how content the sight made him. They had already engaged more than he thought they ever would again, and he wanted to maintain some semblance of distance between them.

Yet, even so, he couldn't stop the grin spreading across his own face as he responded, "No problem."

Minutes later, as he disconnected the cables and prepared to leave, she called out to him, "Mr. Grant?"

He tried to ignore how strange it felt to hear her address him so formally.

"Yes?"

"Have you eaten yet?"

He eyed her curiously, noting the way she was playing with her hands.

"I mean," she continued, "I know this is probably your lunch hour, and you really helped me out." She looked away, avoiding his gaze. "I'd love to buy you lunch or something as a thank you."

She was biting her lip now, and all he could see were flashes from that night – when his thumb ran across that same lip, when they leaned in, when his lips finally touched hers.

He swallowed thickly and checked his watch. Although he had twenty minutes before he was supposed to leave for his first trip to the airport, the idea of spending any more time with her seemed a lot like playing with fire.

Weighing his options, he studied her for a moment. She returned her gaze to him, her eyes warm and inviting – and a little bit unsure – and he found himself unable to deny her anything.

"What did you have in mind?"

* * *

Keeping in consideration his time restraints, she suggested a small deli just up the street. Given that it was a nice day out and trying to find parking outside the garage seemed like more trouble than it was worth, they decided to walk.

They kept a reasonable distance between them, and he had to repeatedly shut down the urge to move closer. They engaged in meaningless small talk under the guise of polite professionalism that - although he didn't want to admit it - seemed entirely too forced. Just like the night they met, there was an air of familiarity between them that made any attempts at plain acquaintanceship just...odd.

"You're gonna love this place." She smiled brightly when they finally arrived, slightly easing the tension between them.

He opened the door for her and was immediately surprised by the large crowd that met them.

"Sorry." She turned to him, smiling apologetically. "I forgot just how bad the lunch rush can get."

He strained to hear her over the general rumble of loud voices talking over one another. There were far more people than he had expected, with the line winding around itself and ending just at the door.

Just as someone else walked inside, she gently pulled his arm, guiding him to the side so that they weren't pushed into the crowd. From their new spot in a corner, he surveyed the group once more, figuring that it would take twenty minutes just to get a chance to order.

Seeming to read his thoughts, she leaned up on tippy-toes and spoke directly into his ear, "Don't worry, we won't have to wait on line."

He shivered at the feel of her so close, forgetting for a moment that they were supposed to be little more than two acquaintances getting lunch.

Suddenly, she grabbed his arm again and led him to the front counter. They earned a few glares as they completely bypassed the line and walked straight to the small space next to the register.

"Hey, Tommy."

The man at the register looked in their direction, his face lighting up immediately when he saw her.

"Liv! Hey, Ernie," he turned, calling for someone in the back kitchen, "Liv's here!"

Within seconds, a man almost identical to the one at the register came rushing out, a huge smile forming on his face.

"Well it's about damn time." He walked up to Olivia, pulling her into a hug. "How're you doing, kid? We haven't seen you in forever."

She laughed, patting his arm as they pulled away from the hug. "Things have been kind of hectic, but I'm good."

"Yeah?" Tommy spoke next, simultaneously nodding to greet the next customer. "The new promotion's treating you well? That old windbag isn't overworking you, is he?"

"Nothing I can't handle." She answered with a grin. "What about you guys? How are things going over here?"

"Things are amazing," the second one – Ernie – spoke, "as you can see." He gestured with a smirk at the long line, now starting to fall out the door. "I'm telling you, Liv, ever since you helped us with those ads, business picked up and hasn't stopped."

"Yeah," Tommy joined in again, "we're even gonna be on one of those shows, you know, the ones where they send someone to visit and you show them around."

Fitz watched the genuine excitement grow on her face at the announcement, an overwhelming sense of endearment filling him at the sight.

"Really? That's amazing," her voice rose with her excitement. "Just tell me when, and I'll make sure to set my DVR."

Ernie nodded enthusiastically, opening his mouth to respond when he was suddenly called from the back.

"I gotta go, Liv, but we'll make sure to catch up sometime soon, yeah?"

"Absolutely."

Just as he started walking away, he turned back to her. "Just the regular today?"

"It's on the house," Tommy cut in. "As always."

She turned to Fitz, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Do you like pastrami?"

He nodded, and she called out to Ernie, "Make that two."

* * *

Five minutes later, they walked out saddled with two pastrami sandwiches and a single can of Pepsi.

"So, you guys seemed pretty friendly," he noted as they began their walk back to the parking garage.

She laughed softly, nodding her head. "They're the best. I don't go as often as I used to, but it's always great to see them."

"How do you know each other?" He glanced at her, allowing himself a moment to appreciate just how beautiful she looked up close, particularly with the sun highlighting her features.

"I used to go pretty regularly when I came up here for grad school. That was back when they're dad was still around and owned the place," she recalled. "But he died a few years back, and business wasn't doing too well, and they were thinking about selling the place." She suddenly stepped a foot away, and he realized after a moment she was avoiding walking over a grate.

"We were on a first-name basis at that point," she continued when they rejoined, "and I had been working at the firm for a few years, so I pulled some strings and got an ad campaign up and running for them pro bono."

Though he was listening to her story, he couldn't help but be distracted by the fact that they were now close enough for her arm to brush against his slightly every few seconds.

"It worked enough to keep business running, and the rest was all on them." She shrugged. "I know Katz's has the title, but I really think they make the best pastrami sandwiches in the city."

He grinned at her statement. "No wonder they don't make you pay. You saved them, and you give glowing reviews."

She laughed, shaking her head. "They say they won't let me pay for another sandwich ever – it's their way of paying me back. But I do find a way to make them take my money occasionally."

"Like buying a drink?" He questioned, gesturing to the soda in his hand.

She smirked. "Exactly."

They arrived at the garage and slowly made their way to the cars, the atmosphere around them much less tense than when they left.

She unlocked her door, and he watched confusedly as she slid into the passenger's side. When she left the door open, he took the hint and sat in the driver's seat in his own car, also leaving his door open to create the sense of a makeshift booth between them.

"Do you have to get going soon?"

He checked the time. "I have about ten minutes left."

She nodded, taking out napkins to line her lap before she started unwrapping her sandwich. He quickly followed behind her, groaning unintentionally when he finally took his first bite.

"I told you." She beamed, her eyes watching him intently. "It's the best."

"I'll give it to you." He took another bite, barely chewing before he swallowed. "This is amazing."

She hummed as she took a bite of her own sandwich. "I forget just how good it is sometimes. I don't think I'll ever wait that long to go back again."

"Please take me with you the next time you go."

"It's a date," she joked, then suddenly seeming to realize what she said, cleared her throat and looked away. "I, uh –"

He could see that she was embarrassed, and as a diversion held up the soda, offering, "Did you want this?"

She eyed the can, still not looking at him directly. "No, it's ok. I don't really drink soda."

"Just wine and bourbon," he recalled, unable to help himself.

She looked at him then, and for a moment, the tension and the pretenses dissolved entirely.

They exchanged small, reminiscent smiles.

"How have you been?" She asked suddenly, her eyes soft and her body language open.

He knew they were no longer trying to play professional – that this was the Olivia he had first met that night.

"Honestly?" He questioned with a raised brow, continuing only after she nodded. "I've been better."

She looked down, her expression giving little away.

"What about you?" He tried after a moment of silence. "I mean, things seem to be going well…" He stopped then, leaving mentions of his boss only for implication.

"I don't know if I'd say that," she offered after a long moment. "Things are still…complicated."

Her eyes finally met his, and he was surprised by the vulnerability he found in them.

She looked conflicted, her mouth opening then closing before she finally started, "Mr. Grant –"

He bristled at how wrong it sounded.

"I think we're a little past that Mr. Grant crap."

He knew he was being hypocritical – considering that he had been the one to push for it in the first place; but gone was his resistance from only a half hour ago. He couldn't pretend that the little time they spent together wasn't burned into his brain for all of eternity, or that he'd somehow forget how easy it was to just be with her.

"I don't think we should –"

"Olivia," he interrupted.

She tried to hide a smirk, crossing her arms. "I thought you wanted to move past our 'brief history' – your words."

He chuckled as she gave him a pointed stare.

"I just…" he trailed off, trying to understand his own actions. He knew they needed to keep their distance, and yet every impulse inside him told him otherwise. Being open with her was instinctive, and he wasn't sure he could stop the desire if he tried.

He finally settled on, "I'm just asking you to say my name."

She shook her head. "That would be inappropriate." He could see that she was still trying to fight off a smile.

And then, because he couldn't stop himself, he immediately returned, "Then let's be inappropriate."

She didn't say anything for a long while, looking everywhere but at him.

He waited with bated breath, almost a full minute going by before he unwillingly checked his watch to see that he should have already left.

"I, uh, I have to go." He started to get himself together, trying to pay little attention to the wave of disappointment settling over him.

But just as the regret set in, and he reached to close his door, she spoke – her voice quiet and shy, "Thanks again for everything…Fitz."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Just wanted to say I hope everyone's been able to find a little happy this week. Amidst all my anger and outrage, I used writing to regroup, so I'm glad I was able to finish this chapter. Thank you as always to all who read/reviewed/shared. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think.**

* * *

"I'm telling you, Liv, it's fine."

"And I'm telling you it's not." She narrowed her eyes, refusing to let her exasperation dwindle her conviction.

"For the love of –" Leo Bergen ran a frustrated hand over his face. "Why are you here again?" He leaned onto the table currently separating them.

She smirked, thoroughly amused by his attempts at intimidation.

"I'm here, Leo, because it's been over a week since Hollis Doyle publicly compromised the integrity of this company by admitting he used your private planes specifically for his and his business's…side affairs, because your attendants would – and I quote – 'turn a blind eye to a chimp snorting coke in a convertible if it threw enough gold-covered shit at them.' And you and your lovely team," she glanced pointedly at the two men seated to his side, "seem incapable of handling the situation on your own."

He blinked, then cleared his throat and stood upright.

"Touché." He picked up the manila folder resting on the table. "But this is the plan, and we're sticking to it."

She considered him for a moment before starting to gather her bags. "Then, I guess we're done here."

"Wait, that's it?" Leo watched her, his brows furrowing. "There aren't any more wrath-induced monologues? No more ominous warnings about how I'll be responsible for completely destroying the company's future?"

She let out a humorless laugh and turned to him. "The fact that you consider any of my professional opinions to be wrathful tells me everything I need to know about you and your willingness to stand knee-deep with Hollis Doyle in whatever flaming pile of misogyny he's climbed into these days. Not to mention, I have far, far more important things to handle with clients who don't have in-house marketing teams that like to waste my time –"

"Ms. Pope?"

All three men released a breath at the interruption, their faces giving away their relief. She rolled her eyes and glanced at the door.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," the young woman she recognized as Dean's assistant immediately cast her eyes downward as the attention shifted to her, "but Mr. Shaw asked to see you before you left."

"Thank you, Lucia," Olivia spoke, her tone dropping the edge it held moments before. "But please let Mr. Shaw know that I'm busy and –"

"He said," she stopped to clear her throat, "He, uh, he said if you said that to tell you that, um, we won't…need your services for the Hollis Doyle situation after today."

Her posture grew impossibly erect at the sound of snickers filling the room, and she just barely caught sight of Lucia's mouthed "Sorry," before cutting daggers at Leo.

Without saying a word, she grabbed the folder from his hand and opened it. She made her way to Lucia, who was now fidgeting with her hands in the doorway, and the room silenced.

"Lucia, can you give this a quick read and tell me what you think?"

Slowly, she reached for the folder and her eyes began scanning the documents. Olivia watched the subtle shift in her expression – wide, curious eyes shrinking to narrow slits, one brow rising, lips pursing – she felt the smirk growing on her own face at the sight.

"So, what do you think?" She asked again after a moment. Lucia's eyes darted to something behind her, presumably Leo, and Olivia held a finger up before she could start speaking. "Your _honest_ opinion."

"Honestly?" Lucia toyed with the corner of a page and chewed on her lip for a moment. "I think…" she glanced down, then suddenly squared her shoulders and looked back up, "I think it's not that great. It's… tone deaf, completely disregards why people were upset with our original response and makes it sound like we're siding with Doyle while throwing our own attendants under the bus."

Sparing only another smirk in Leo's direction, Olivia took the folder back with a smile. "Thank you, Lucia. Maybe if they had you running things in here, I wouldn't have to stop by so often."

She chose to ignore Leo's scoff as she placed the folder back on the table, noting instead Lucia's growing smile at the comment.

"Send me an updated press release and a better plan of action by the end of the day." She finally glanced at the men, all three now wearing identical, unimpressed glares. "Otherwise, I will let you handle the Hollis situation alone. And, judging by your track record, you don't want to handle it alone."

And with that, she guided Lucia out of the room. She could only imagine the testosterone-fueled vitriol Leo was spilling in her absence, but as she told him, she had far more important things to deal with.

Just as they reached a split in the hall and she made a turn for the elevators, Lucia called out to her again.

"Um, Ms. Pope?"

"Hmm?" She turned, already digging in her bag for her phone.

"Mr. Shaw wanted you to…"

Olivia sighed. The time on her phone told her that she had at least fifteen minutes before she was to meet Abby for lunch, but she had no interest in staying longer than she needed to.

Just as she considered denying his request again, Dean suddenly appeared down the hall.

"Hey, babe." He called out loudly, and she could feel the frown immediately tugging at her lips.

"Dean," she greeted, her tone doing little to hide her annoyance.

He didn't show any signs of noticing and walked up behind Lucia, placing a hand on his assistant's shoulder.

"Didn't Lucy tell you that I wanted to see you?"

"Yes, _Lucia_ did tell me you wanted to see me."

"Excuse me," Lucia interjected, immediately starting to move away. "I should probably go see if Mr. O'Shea got back to me about your interview next week." And with that, she was gone.

Dean grinned, taking their sudden privacy as an opportunity to pull her to him for a kiss. She acquiesced for a moment before taking a step back and pressing a hand to his chest.

"I'm here for work."

Entirely undeterred, Dean started to lean back in with a smirk. "I'm trying to get to work."

"Dean, come on." Her hand resisted him more forcefully, and he finally took a step back.

"Fine." He frowned, reaching for her hand. "Let's go to my office. I can have Lucy order us lunch."

She followed as he began walking, but quickly refused, "I'm meeting Abby for lunch soon."

They breezed past Lucia's desk, which was notably empty, and made their way into his office.

"I'm sure you can call to cancel." He closed the door, guiding her to sit on the couch resting against a side wall.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because," he placed an arm around her shoulder as he sat beside her, "you've been here I don't know how many times in the past week and a half, and we haven't had lunch once."

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, I've been a little busy trying to salvage this company's reputation."

He chuckled, running a hand across the back of his neck. "Yeah, this Hollis Doyle thing is…"

"A headache? A total nightmare? Proof of your marketing team's incompetence?"

"All of the above?" He smirked.

Groaning, she stood and began pacing.

"I can't believe how they want to handle it, I mean Leo –"

"In my defense," he held his hands up, "Leo was Dad's guy."

She nodded her head. "Trust me, I can tell."

He leaned back, watching her continue to pace.

"You know who I feel bad for in all of this?"

She glanced in his direction. "Other than your underpaid, overworked staff who's getting the brunt of the blame?"

He shrugged dismissively. "Well, aside from them…Doyle's children."

"His children?"

"Yeah," he rested his hands behind his head. "By the time his trial is over, they'll probably lose everything – the money, the prestige, the houses…"

"That is _not_ everything." She rolled her eyes. "They'll still have some place to live and some way to make a living.

Shrugging again, he continued, "If they're really unlucky, they'll probably end up like my driver."

She stopped pacing then, the mere mention of him stopping her in her tracks. Looking at Dean confusedly, she asked, "Fitz?"

Dean stared at her for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah, Fitzgerald Grant. I didn't know you two were on a first name basis."

She cleared her throat, looking away.

"I told you he helped me with my car a few days ago."

"You told me someone helped you with your car. You never said who," he returned.

She chose to ignore his remark and slowly made her way to the window behind his desk.

She hadn't seen Fitz since their lunch together, though it hadn't been for lack of trying. She had visited the office nearly every day since Hollis' public blunder and, after their lunch, had spent an extra few minutes each time scanning the parking garage in search of him.

She didn't know what she intended to do if she did see him, but…she missed him. The thought made her shake her head.

 _What the hell was wrong with her?_

She tried to justify it; they had exchanged kind gestures, and they were...friendly.

Yet, as much as she didn't want to admit it, she had become fixated on him like a schoolgirl with a crush – the half hour they spent together playing in her head on a loop, and the sight of his smile as she spoke his name coming to mind at random times of day.

And so, try as she might to ignore it, and despite how completely unreasonable it was, she couldn't deny that she did miss him.

"What about him?" She finally asked.

Dean was suddenly behind her.

"You remember Big Gerry Grant and the media circus around him?"

She stiffened unintentionally as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "You mean that law firm partner who embezzled millions from the nonprofits he chaired?"

"Yup, that's the one." He pulled her closer to him. "That's his father."

Her eyes widened and she glanced back at him. "Really?"

He nodded. "Apparently, the public backlash attached to the family name was so bad, he couldn't get a job even with a law degree from Harvard." Something about the amused nonchalance in his tone irritated her, and she lightly shrugged his hands off of her. "I heard he was teaching, but then his resume showed up in our HR department a few weeks ago, so…I guess that didn't work out either." He chuckled, and she walked out of his grasp entirely.

"Liv?"

"That's – I don't see why you're laughing. It isn't funny."

"Are you serious?" He chuckled again, reaching for her. She stepped back, and he frowned. "Liv, come on..." He scoffed as she crossed her arms. "Weren't you the one who just said Hollis' kids would be fine. I don't see how this is any different."

She didn't respond, instead pulling out her phone to check the time.

"Look, I should get going. Abby's –"

"Abby can see you tomorrow." He walked to her, wrapping his arms around her waist before she could step aside again. "Today, we're having lunch, or…" he leaned in, his lips just barely touching hers, "not having lunch."

"Dean," she tried to lean back, but his lips were soon on hers and his grip around her waist tightened. She couldn't ignore how wrong it felt – how foreign and misplaced it seemed to be, just as all his kisses as of late – and just as he tried to shove his tongue into her mouth, she pushed him away.

"Dean, stop."

He stared at her incredulously as she took a step back, his arms falling to his sides. "Damnit, Liv. What? What is it? Did I do something?"

She sighed, rubbing at the growing tension between her brows. "I told you I was just here for work."

"And when has that ever stopped us before?" His voice was strained by exasperation. "Are we ok? Because you said we were fine, but ever since we've been back together, it doesn't feel like we are. You've barely let me touch you."

"That's not true –"

"We haven't slept together once." He pulled out his desk chair roughly, immediately sinking down into it. "You haven't invited me up to your place, and you always seem to find an excuse not to spend the night at mine."

She scoffed, glaring at the back of his head as he turned away from her. "I've been busy."

"So you've said." He started going through the papers scattered on his desk, not actually reading any of them.

She was relieved to hear an incoming text and glanced at her phone. "I need to go."

He didn't bother looking up. "Fine, then go."

She waited for a moment, expecting to be hit by the usual wave of anger she felt when they went back and forth like this, but it never came. She was struck instead by a dull flash of annoyance, replaced almost immediately by indifference. Rolling her eyes, she didn't bother with a response before finally making her way out of his office.

Just as she walked out, she nearly collided with Lucia.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Pope."

"No, I'm sorry, it was my fault." Olivia eyed the young woman, taking note of her bloodshot eyes and flushed cheeks. "Are you ok?"

"Oh," Lucia looked away quickly, wiping at non-existent tears. "I'm fine, I just –" she breathed in, "I got some bad news about a sick relative."

Olivia's gaze softened with sympathy, and she placed a comforting hand on her arm. "I'm so sorry. If you need, Dean can give you the rest of the week off –"

"I don't want to bother Mr. Shaw," she spoke quickly. At Olivia's worried expression, she continued, "I think it would help…to keep myself busy."

"Ok." Olivia nodded. "You have my number. If you need anything or he gives you a hard time, just let me know."

She seemed surprised by the offer, her eyes growing wide. "I wouldn't want to bother you."

"Lucia," she interrupted, "it wouldn't be a bother, especially compared to whatever mess Leo's going to send me later."

They shared a laugh, and Lucia nodded.

"Thank you."

Olivia smiled at her, and Lucia returned to her desk. Though, just as she turned to leave, Lucia called out once more.

"Ms. Pope?"

She looked back at her.

"I just wanted to say," Lucia looked away, a light, embarrassed blush tainting her cheeks, "I'm glad you and Mr. Shaw are ok again. He's better when he's with you."

Surprised by her comment, and unsure of what to say, Olivia gave her one last, small smile before finally making her way to the elevator.

* * *

"You're standing me up?"

"I mean, you're more than welcome to spend your lunch hour helping me review these numbers – in fact, I'd appreciate it – but I'm not leaving until I figure out what happened to that $200."

Olivia sighed and checked her watch. "By the time I make it over there I'll have to run back to the office for a meeting."

"Fine." Abby groaned into the receiver. "I'm sorry, Liv, I know we've had this scheduled for a week, but that was the pay-it-forward money. I mean, who the hell steals money used to feed the homeless?"

"Say no more," Olivia interjected. "We'll just reschedule for next week. Good luck finding your cookie-money monster."

"Ha-ha." She could almost see Abby roll her eyes. "But thanks, I owe you croissants the next time I see you."

"I won't say no to that," she grinned.

They exchanged final goodbyes and ended the call just as she got an incoming text. She nearly groaned as she saw it was from Dean.

She glanced at it just long enough to see that it was an apology and an invitation to dinner, before she walked directly into someone. Gasping, she nearly collided with the pavement when two hands suddenly reached out to grab her arms.

"Shit, sorry."

She recognized his voice immediately, her gaze slowly rising to meet his.

Her stomach flipped at the sight of Fitz's worried eyes, and she let out a breath as he steadied her.

"Are you ok?" His hands slid down her arms and she shivered at the feel, noting the absence she felt when they returned to his sides.

"I'm - yeah, I'm good."

"Good." He smiled, and she tried to ignore the sudden flutter in her chest.

They stood silently for a moment, neither making a move to leave when he eventually asked, "So how's the car?"

She grimaced, earning a smirk in return.

"That bad?"

"I didn't even try to start it this morning." She rolled her eyes. "I need to take it in, but the last time I went to a mechanic, I almost got sucked into paying half a month's salary for nonexistent problems."

He chuckled, and she could feel a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Yeah," he drew out, "they'll definitely take advantage of you if you let them."

She shook her head. "You know, I didn't even want a car. I thought it was pretty pointless, but then I almost got mugged on the subway after a late night at the office, and it just seemed like the better option."

She laughed it off but watched his brows furrow at the mention of the incident.

"It was forever ago." She waved a hand dismissively. "My best friend made me take self-defense classes and gave me a can of pepper spray for every purse I own for Christmas."

They both laughed, and he started reaching into his pocket.

"I have a guy, if you want someone to check it out." He swiped on his phone, pulling up a number. "He's pretty good, and I trust him. Just let him know that I sent you, and he'll make sure to take good care of you."

He showed her the number and she quickly unlocked her own phone, adding it into her contacts.

"He's a little rough around the edges," he warned, "but he says it's part of his charm."

She smirked as he rolled his eyes.

"I'll make sure to tell him you said hello." Sliding her phone into her pocket, she smiled at him. "Thanks for saving me and my car...again."

He nodded. "No problem."

They fell into another silence.

She didn't know what it was, but being in his company was like a breath of fresh air. There was a natural ease with him, and she couldn't bring herself to want to leave.

But when nearly a minute passed, she finally looked away.

"I should get going," she glanced at him a final time. "Thanks, again."

She could feel his eyes on her as she started walking away. She barely made it a few feet when he suddenly called out, "Olivia?"

She promptly ignored the chill running through her at the sound of her name leaving his lips and turned back to him.

Smiling coyly, he took a step closer. "Have you eaten yet?"

* * *

She tried hard not to stare as he began driving out of the parking garage.

Sitting in the passenger seat, she was afforded a much better a view of him than when she was in the back seat, and she stole several glances before finally forcing herself to look out the window.

"So this friend you were supposed to meet, is she the same one who gave you enough pepper spray to lead an army?" He asked several minutes into their ride.

She laughed. "That's her." After a moment, she continued, "We were going to meet at the deli, but she had a work emergency."

They eased to a stop at a light, and she turned to see that he was looking at her.

"And here I thought I was special." He smirked.

She stared at him for a moment, remembering her conversation with Abby days before their unexpected reunion.

" _I see he's still got you all worked up."_

" _It's just...he was...special."_

She quickly pushed the memory aside, and, biting down on a grin, finally responded, "Sorry to burst your bubble."

He raised a hand to his chest. "I'm hurt."

"You can't blame me," she shrugged. "Food that good deserves to be shared…not to mention, I took her there first."

His smirk widened. "Alright, good point."

The car in front of them crept forward, and his attention returned to the road. She allowed her gaze to stay on his profile.

"So, where are you taking me?"

"You're not the only one who knows where to find good food."

"You didn't answer my question."

He glanced at her quickly, pointedly. "I didn't intend to."

With a small, amused smile, she relaxed further into her seat.

Neither spoke after that, and her eyes again wandered to the window. The silence was comfortable, and the air between them easy-going, and she found her thoughts starting to drift.

She couldn't remember the last time she had allowed herself to enjoy just being with someone else.

Things with him felt effortless in a way they felt with few other people – people who had been in her life for years – and she was unnerved by the thought.

Suddenly, the low buzz of a saxophone filled the car, and she turned to see his hand toying with the radio. He turned the volume up as the sounds blended with the flutter of a piano.

Seeming to notice her gaze, he cleared his throat.

"Is this ok?"

Once again, she found herself unable to contain a smile.

"You didn't strike me as the jazz type."

And once again, she watched the familiar smirk forming on his face.

"But I did strike you as the mysterious, chill surfer type?"

They both laughed at the memory, and she turned to face him completely, giving him her full attention.

"I wasn't completely wrong."

"Which means you weren't completely right." He raised his eyebrows, flashing a grin in her direction.

She narrowed her eyes playfully before turning to face the car's front.

The song drifted into another, and, after a moment, he spoke, "My mom used to listen to it all the time."

She glanced at him again, taking in the sudden, wistful expression on his face.

"She used to put it on when it was just us, and we'd dance around the living room." He paused, a small smile lighting up his face. "One time, she dressed up and got me a jacket and tie from my dad's room, and we just spent hours dancing…"

She watched as his smile slowly fell.

"Later that week she told me she had breast cancer." His words were quiet. "I was young and I didn't really understand it, but then a few months went by and she…" He took a moment to clear his throat before continuing, "Whenever I listen to it, it reminds me of dancing with her. I guess it just…sounds like home."

Before she could say anything, he shook his head. "I didn't realize how ridiculous that sounded until I said it out loud," he chuckled humorlessly. "I'm sorry for ruining the mood like that –"

"No," she finally interrupted. Moved by a strong urge to comfort him, she reached across the console to place a hand on his leg. "It doesn't sound ridiculous at all…and I'm sorry about your mother."

He glanced at her briefly, his lips pressed together and upturned at the sides to form a shy, appreciative smile. She returned a smile of her own, before slowly removing her hand.

After a brief silence, she spoke, "Al Green reminds me of my mom. Well, Al Green and Aretha Franklin."

She thought about it for a moment, letting herself get carried away by the memory.

"She had these two CDs she'd play nonstop whenever she was cleaning or cooking, and it used to drive my dad _insane_." A soft, reminiscent laugh escaped her. "He'd try to drown her out with his Otis Redding records, but she always won out…"

It was the first time in forever she had really entertained a memory of her mother, and she couldn't help but let out a sad sigh.

Suddenly, she felt Fitz rest a hand on her leg. Her gaze landed on it, before slowly rising until her eyes met his.

He didn't say anything, but it was still enough. His gaze and touch, like an instant balm, filled her with comfort, and she could feel her brows furrowing in response.

Clearing her throat, she looked out the window just as his attention returned to the road. He removed his hand from her leg, and for the few seconds following, she had to fight the urge to reach for it.

Letting out a breath, she closed her eyes. She noticed only then that her heart was racing, and – using the gentle waves of jazz floating from the radio as a distraction – she tried desperately to curb the building avalanche of thoughts about the man to her left.

She didn't open her eyes again until he turned the car off.

Looking in his direction, she found him already staring at her, his gaze intense.

She shifted unintentionally under his stare, waiting as he opened and closed his mouth several times before he finally spoke.

"We should…"

"We should go." She finished for him.

Neither of them moved, their eyes still locked. And then – whether he did it on purpose she would never know – he licked his lips. Almost instinctively, her gaze shifted downwards, and she couldn't stop the flash of memories of searing kisses that still haunted her in her dreams.

She looked away quickly, feeling her face heat with embarrassment.

The moment he unlocked the door, she climbed out of the car and took a deep breath, hoping to clear her head.

She wasn't naïve enough to believe she had already gotten past her attraction to him, but she needed to get over it – fast. Though, as he joined her on the sidewalk, and she could feel goosebumps rising on her arms, something told her that her efforts would prove to be pointless.

 _What the hell had she gotten herself into?_

* * *

The walk down the block was short, and they came to a stop in front of a small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Its sign was faded, and she could just barely make out the name "Antonio's."

"A coworker told me about this place a few weeks ago," he said, holding the door open for her. "I've been here twice and haven't stopped thinking about it."

As soon as they were both inside, they were greeted by a hostess.

"Just two?" She asked, grabbing their menus. When they nodded, she led them to a booth in the back, starting to rattle off the day's specials.

Olivia glanced at Fitz, who wiggled his brows playfully, prompting her to stifle a giggle.

When their hostess left, and they were settled into the booth, she glanced at the menu.

"So, what do you suggest?"

"I've had the manicotti and it's amazing, and I've heard the shrimp linguine is pretty good…"

She eyed him as he trailed off, noticing that he wasn't looking at the menu.

"Now what do you _really_ suggest?"

He glanced around the restaurant and leaned in conspiratorially, "It's not on the menu, but last time I was here, I saw someone get this chicken parmesan pizza and it looked incredible."

Smirking, she closed her menu and mimicked his actions – leaning in and lowering her voice, "Let's do it."

He grinned, and she noticed only then just how close their faces were.

"Alright, how are you two doing today?"

She was grateful for the interruption, immediately leaning back into her seat. She watched Fitz do the same, his eyes still locked on her and an unreadable expression on his face, before they both greeted their waitress.

"My name's Sofia, and I'll be – oh," she tilted her head at Fitz, "you didn't come with your friend today."

He seemed surprised that she recognized him and let out a chuckle.

"No, he's working through lunch."

She nodded, then glanced in Olivia's direction.

"Well, your new friend's much prettier," she grinned.

Olivia smiled at the older woman, getting ready to respond when Fitz suddenly spoke, "Yeah she is."

Surprised, she turned to see his stare fixated on her. It sent a chill up her spine, and she found that her throat was suddenly dry. Clearing it, she returned her attention to Sofia.

"So, what can I get for you?"

* * *

Once again, she found herself trying hard not to stare at him.

His suit jacket was resting to the side, and the sleeves of his shirt unbuttoned and rolled to his forearms. It was just enough to give her a more detailed glimpse at the bulging muscles usually concealed by his attire.

After they ordered what Sofia explained was known as Dino's Special – a signature dish of her husband, the chef, that had long since become a secret staple of the restaurant – she jokingly warned that it tended to get messy, and Fitz took it upon himself to properly prepare. Olivia laughed at his dramatics until he was done, and she was left with the image before her.

As her gaze lingered, she let herself remember what it felt like to have his arms wrapped around her.

"So, what does the rest of your day look like?"

"Hmm?" With her attention so preoccupied, she barely heard his words and took a moment to think them over. "Oh, I – uh," she looked away, taking a second to compose herself, "I just have a few meetings at my office and some paperwork to go over. I'm a little behind, so I'll probably stay late tonight."

He frowned. "And you didn't drive today?"

"No," she looked at him confusedly, "why?"

"If you wait, I can give you a ride. I mean, it might be later than you intended to get home, but…"

Shocked by his offer, she felt her eyes go slightly wide. "What? No, Fitz, it's –"

"Liv," he interrupted, his gaze pointed, "I'd rather give you a ride than know you're taking the subway by yourself so late."

And suddenly, it made sense. She could sense her own gaze soften with realization, and a soft smile spread across her face.

"You don't have to worry about me. I told you, it was forever ago and –"

"And I'd still feel better if you took me up on my offer."

She found herself fighting off a grin, touched by how much he seemed to care about her well-being.

"Would it help if I said I'll catch a ride with my boss? He'll definitely still be there."

He eyed her for a moment, before slowly nodding.

"Ok, but if anything changes, just call me – or I mean, Mr. Shaw, I guess." He looked away, the air between them suddenly changing at the mention of him. "If you let him know you need a ride, I'd be more than willing to –"

"Fitz," she called softly, because she could tell that he was starting to ramble, and she didn't like that things suddenly seemed uncomfortable between them.

He returned his gaze to her, and she gave him a small smile, hoping it would ease the tension.

"Thank you. I appreciate it, really."

He responded with a smile of his own, and they fell into a momentary silence.

When a few minutes passed, he suddenly requested, "Tell me something."

She raised an eyebrow, looking at him questioningly.

"About yourself, I mean," he explained.

She shrugged. "Like what?"

He mimicked her, shrugging before taking a drink of water. "I don't know."

"Well," she thought it over for a moment, "you already know that I'm originally from D.C., that I'm an amazing food and wine connoisseur," she laughed, "…that I started swimming while in boarding school –"

"Oh there we go." He picked up his glass again, gesturing in her direction. "You said in high school, you never mentioned anything about boarding school."

"That's true," she grinned. "Well, I spent most of middle school and all of high school in Europe –"

"Wait, Europe?"

She giggled at the sight of his wide eyes.

Nodding, she continued, "I guess I have my dad to thank for that. My mom always liked me better, and once she was gone, I think he tried to ship me off as far away as possible…" Though she spoke jokingly, the way his gaze suddenly softened told her that he could sense the seriousness behind her words. Feeling exposed, she looked away, her hands toying with the napkin on her lap.

"I, um…"

"If it helps," he spoke up, getting her attention again, "my father was pretty shitty, too."

Suddenly, her conversation with Dean sprang to mind, and she immediately decided it'd be best to stay silent, waiting instead to see what he felt comfortable sharing.

"I think he planned out my entire life the moment he found out he was having a son," he chuckled, shaking his head. "If it were up to him, I probably would've been running for president right about now." He rolled his eyes. "But he got into some things and screwed everything up…for both of us."

She bit down on her bottom lip, stopping herself from asking the questions coming to mind.

And then he looked at her, his eyes narrowing.

"What?"

"Nothing," she answered a little too quickly.

"What?" He repeated slowly, his expression amused.

"I just…"

"You want to know how I ended up here."

"I want to know whatever you want to tell me," it came out before she had time to think it over. It was true. She was moved by something stronger than curiosity – the desire to get to know him feeling almost instinctual.

She wasn't entirely sure why, but she wanted to know Fitzgerald Grant.

And that scared the hell out of her.

He stared at her for a long moment, considering her, before finally starting to speak again.

"The summer after my sophomore year of undergrad I considered dropping out," he paused, seeming to get lost in the memory. "I was studying pre-law like I was always supposed to, and I was completely miserable. I wanted to do something that got me from under my father's thumb…I considered joining the Navy, but that didn't work out, so a friend and I decided to try out chauffeuring."

He grinned, shaking his head. "It seemed like fun and I knew it'd piss my dad off, so we got the right certifications and licenses and that's how I spent the next two summers." She could tell by the faraway tone of his voice that his mind was distant, lost in the past.

"When law school started, I stopped because, in my father's words 'it was time to get serious,' and he threatened to disown me if I didn't spend the summers working at his firm." He chuckled incredulously, "And yet, no sooner than I graduated was he getting arrested for embezzlement, and tax evasion and whatever the hell else he had buried himself in over the years. I thought it was hilarious, until I realized I couldn't get a job in the field because of him..."

He blinked, his eyes – suddenly present and vulnerable – meeting hers. "But honestly...I don't think I wanted one either. It felt wrong, I would've been practicing with a law degree that was probably paid for with stolen money."

He sighed, and she fought the immediate urge to move to sit by his side.

"I got married later that year, we moved and I finally found a nice teaching job at a high school. I thought I was finally going to have some normal, but –" He suddenly looked up, and she followed his gaze to see Sofia making her way over with their food.

"That looks amazing," he smiled as she set it down.

Still absorbing the information he had just shared, Olivia watched him, knowing very well they weren't going to return the conversation.

Taking his cue, she thanked Sophia before adding, "It really does. I think we may have to trade favorite secret lunch spots for a week or two."

"Uh-uh," he grinned, shaking his head, "this right here is all mine."

They shared a laugh, the heaviness of their conversation moments prior starting to dissolve.

"Would you like to do the honors?" he offered, spinning the tray until the slice with the server tucked beneath it was in front of her.

She smirked. "Don't mind if I do."

* * *

"That was…incredible."

"No, that was more than incredible. It was _life-changing_."

They both laughed, and she rested her head against the booth.

"We have to come back here."

"At least twice a week," he agreed, slowly adjusting his sleeves.

She waited until he put his suit jacket back on before finally standing. She reached into her purse, pulling out a few dollars to leave on the table.

He glared playfully as she did so. They had spent several minutes arguing over who would pay for the meal. He insisted that it was his turn, since it had been his suggestion in the first place, but she quickly refuted, arguing that the deli didn't count given that she didn't technically pay.

They went back and forth until Sophia came over, and he promptly slid her enough to cover the bill before she even set it down. She returned moments later with his change, and Olivia immediately threatened him to put it away, insisting that she could at least pick up the tip.

"Honestly, I think we're on to something." He waved a hand at Sophia, as she silently bid them farewell from across the room. "I say we try every hole-in-the-wall in the city –"

She noticed that his collar was crooked, and, unable to help herself, she reached up to fix it. He paused as she did so, and she could sense him watching her.

Suddenly feeling too flustered to meet his eyes, she kept her gaze on his chest as she removed her hand.

"That sounds like a plan," she smiled, before waving at Sophia herself.

She walked in front of him as they made their way outside, and she could feel his eyes still on her. She didn't dare glance at him as he moved to her side and they made their way back to his car.

Only when she was inside, and the rest of the world was locked out by the car door did she turn to him.

"Thank you for lunch, I really enjoyed it…" she trailed off, and he watched her patiently, not yet starting the car.

"And," she paused, considering her words, "thank you for opening up to me, you didn't have to do that."

He studied her for a moment, before his lips slowly curved upwards into a modest smile.

"I figure that's what friends are for."

She thought it over, only partially joking as she asked for confirmation, "So we're friends?"

"Well," he pretended to think, "I'd say we know each other pretty well, wouldn't you?"

The pointedness of his stare brought to mind memories of his hands on her thighs, of her legs wrapped around him and his fingers in her – knowing each other "well" seemed to be putting it lightly.

She felt herself flush at her own thoughts, and, as if picking up on it, he continued, "I mean, we've lunched together and I shared my mechanic with you. Not to mention, we skipped right to discussing our dead mothers and terrible fathers, so I think that makes us friends – _good_ friends, actually."

They were silent for a moment, and then they both laughed. Hard.

"Ok," she got out in between giggles, "you have a point."

He chuckled. "I do, don't I?"

Their laughter tapered off moments later, and he finally started the car.

"Now, come on, put on your seatbelt. I'll drop you off at your office before I go back."

Still grinning, she didn't bother to refuse his offer, instead buckling herself in and resting her head back against the seat.

 _Friends. They could be friends, couldn't they?_

But as she looked at him, finding it difficult to tear her eyes away from his profile, she realized she wasn't sure they could.

* * *

She was tired – exhausted, really.

After getting through hours of meetings and a seemingly never-ending mountain of paperwork, she wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and slip on her favorite pair of silk pajamas.

The thought made her sigh as she entered her building, and she was so lost in the fantasy that she almost missed the concierge calling out to her.

"Ms. Pope? Ms. Pope –"

She turned to him, flashing an apologetic smile.

"Hey, Eddie, what's up?"

"I just wanted to warn you that you have company," he raised his eyebrows suggestively, and she narrowed her eyes.

"Thanks for the heads up."

She knew from experience that asking him for more details was pointless, and she had a sneaking suspicion of who it was. Making her way to the elevator, she started to massage her temple.

This was the absolute last way she wanted to end her night.

Even with the warning, she was still surprised to find Dean leaning against her door, checking his watch for what she could only assume to be the hundredth time since he had gotten there.

"What are you doing here?" She asked in lieu of a greeting.

His head snapped up, the impatient glare on his face barely letting up.

"Where have you been?"

"At work. What are you doing here?" She repeated.

"You never answered my text about dinner."

"I'm sorry, I was busy…" she trailed off, her eyes falling on the suitcase resting at his side. "What are you –"

"Are you gonna let me in?" He looked at her expectantly. "I've been standing here for almost an hour."

She sighed. "Dean, I'm really tired –"

He stepped closer to her. "Come on, Liv. You can't still be mad about earlier."

Truth be told, she could barely remember their earlier conversation.

"I'm not, I'm honestly just…tired."

"Fine." He reached out, wrapping his arms around her waist. "We already missed the reservation I made at Per Se. I was gonna suggest ordering Chinese, but I can just put you straight to bed instead."

He smirked and she shook her head, removing his arms.

"I'm serious –"

"So am I."

When she didn't budge, he huffed and ran a hand over his face.

"Something came up, and I have to fly out to Florida tomorrow to take care of a few things. I probably won't be back for a week, and I thought we could spend some time together before I left…"

Her annoyance started to ebb, giving way to guilt, and, with a sigh, she finally unlocked her door.

"I already ate at the office, but there should be something in the kitchen you can heat up."

"Other than popcorn, I hope." He chuckled, setting his suitcase by the door.

She eyed it again as he walked into the kitchen.

"Why did you bring that with you?"

"I told you," he walked back out of the kitchen, grinning as he made his way to her, "I plan on putting you to bed tonight." He helped her remove her coat before pulling her to him. "I'm leaving early tomorrow morning, so I figured it'd just be easier to stay here."

It was practically routine for them. He'd always spend the night when he had an early flight the next morning – it was practical, and cut his commute in half – and yet, she couldn't ignore how much she didn't like the idea of him staying the night.

He started to lean in, and she placed a hand on his chest.

"I think you should stay at the penthouse." She didn't mean for it to come out so bluntly, and she almost felt bad as she watched his grin falter.

He took a step back, his hands falling to his sides. "So you are still upset about earlier. Look, babe –"

She quickly busied herself with hanging up her coat. "I told you I'm not –"

"You also told me we were ok, but here we are –"

"Just drop it ok? I'm fine, we're _fine_ –"

"Really? Then why are you still being such a bitch?"

She stilled immediately, and she could hear him curse under his breath.

"Liv, I'm sorry, you know I didn't –"

"Leave."

"What?"

She turned to him, her eyes narrowed. "Dean, leave."

"Liv, babe…"

"No, don't 'babe' me and **do not** touch me." She pushed him back as soon as his hands reached for her arms. "You need to leave."

"I'm sorry," he held his hands up. "But…"

"But _what?_ "

"Come on," he sighed. "Don't make me leave. I mean, Dad's using the penthouse tonight, and I already sent my driver home –"

"Then get an uber, take the subway, catch a fucking cab –"

"Nobody's gonna give me a ride all the way home, and with Amtrak's schedule, the earliest train I could catch tomorrow would still get me here an hour after I'm supposed to leave."

She looked at him incredulously. "Are you kidding me?" Letting out a breath, she rubbed at her eyes. "Look, Dean, it's been a long day. I'm tired and I really don't want to do this –"

"I can sleep on the couch," he spoke quickly. "I'll be gone before you wake up, and you won't even know I'm here."

Groaning, she could feel her exhaustion eating away at her resolve. She didn't have the energy to deal with this.

"I want you out before I even open my eyes…and I'm locking my door."

She didn't wait for a response, immediately making her way to her room, only stopping to call out as an afterthought, "And don't touch my popcorn."

She realized it was a mistake the moment she closed her bedroom door, but with no desire to confront him again, she settled for simply getting ready for bed.

Fifteen minutes later, she was finally under her covers. Closing her eyes, she waited for the day's tension to leave her body, but found it nearly impossible when she could still hear Dean getting settled for the night.

She tossed and turned several times before groaning.

After a few minutes, she began running through her usual tricks to clear her mind – counting backwards, taking deep measured breaths – but nothing seemed to work.

That is, until, finally, a familiar face came to mind.

She saw his smile first, coy and charming, followed by a distinct pair of blue eyes that instantly calmed her.

Her entire body immediately relaxed, and she found herself falling asleep, not for the first time, to the alluring mental image of Fitzgerald Grant.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: It's been a minute! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update, but ya'll this semester is really kicking my ass. But I'm on break this week and I'm feeling extra inspired because of the premiere so I was finally able to finish this chapter! I have outlines on top of outlines for the next few chapters, so I'm definitely going to try to update more regularly. As always, thank you so so much for the reviews for the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this one and let me know what you think.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Scandal or any of its characters.**

* * *

Fitz couldn't wipe the scowl from his face as he watched his boss slide into the back seat.

He didn't know what was worse: the fact that he was picking him up before seven in the morning, or that he was picking him up from Olivia's apartment.

"Good morning," he greeted dryly.

The man fumbled with his seatbelt for a moment, seemingly dazed, before glancing at Fitz.

"What? Oh yeah, uh, good morning."

Fitz eyed him through the mirror, barely waiting for him to get settled before pulling off.

"Sorry," he suddenly yawned loudly, "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Logically, Fitz knew he had no reason to be upset, but that didn't stop his hands from gripping the wheel tighter at the mere thought of what could have kept him up. He didn't bother with a response, instead focusing on the road ahead.

After a few minutes, he was finally starting to forget about his passenger when the silence was broken by another obnoxious yawn.

"I'm telling you," Dean spoke, his mouth still stretched open, "the second I get on that plane, I'm going straight to sleep."

Fitz held in a groan. He had hoped for a silent ride, but that obviously wouldn't be the case. Lost in his own thoughts, he almost didn't notice when Dean began speaking again.

"I don't know about you and the women in your life," he chuckled, "but I swear, trying to keep up with Liv is gonna kill me one of these days."

For a moment, Fitz saw red. His foot stomped harshly on the brake, jerking the car to a stop.

" _Shit_."

"Sorry," he deadpanned, not meaning it in the slightest.

For once, Fitz was grateful for the angry mumbles that slipped from his boss. He wanted no part in whatever faux friendly conversation Shaw was trying to get at – especially not when it concerned him and Liv. Again, the car fell silent and Fitz released a breath.

He needed to regroup.

This wasn't him. He wasn't a jealous man – even at times when life had presented him with every reason to be. Sure, he had felt a flare of possession when it came to high school girlfriends and his ex-wife in their earlier days, but that's all it ever was – a vapid reaction to the threat of a bruised ego.

But this…this was different; it was a visceral, potent surge of heat that coiled tightly in the pit of his stomach and made his entire body tense.

And it was completely absurd.

He and Liv were friends. That's what they decided, and that's how things would stay.

Though, as nice as it sounded, the thought immediately flooded him with a sense of dissatisfaction, and he grimaced.

 _Could they really just be friends?_

"Hey," Dean suddenly called out, pulling him from his thoughts, "can I ask you a question?"

Fitz let out a quiet huff, his frown deepening. When he didn't say anything, Dean took his silence as an answer and continued, "Well, actually it's more of a favor." Again, Fitz's silence was taken as a sign to continue. "I just realized that with me being gone for the week you'll probably have a lot of time on your hands –"

Fitz rolled his eyes. While it was true that he was used more as a personal driver, he still made the rounds during the day for other company purposes.

"– and I know this isn't exactly what you signed up for, but I'd make it worth your while."

Now suspicious, Fitz came to a stop at a red light and eyed him through the mirror.

"I'd like to know what I'd be doing before I agree," he finally spoke, his tone just barely concealing his annoyance.

"Right well," Dean clasped his hands together, "Liv's car is still giving her trouble, and I know you helped her out a little while ago…"

Fitz's eyebrows furrowed.

Had she been talking about him?

He wondered briefly how much she had shared – if their interactions stayed on her mind as much as they did on his – before quickly clearing the thought from his head. It didn't matter what she had or hadn't mention to this man; he was still her boyfriend and his boss.

"And I'd really appreciate it if you could, you know, drive her around for the week?" He finally asked. "I want to do something nice for her, but I don't have time to pick up a gift. I figure this works pretty well too." He paused, adding as an afterthought, "Oh and you won't have to worry about things at the office, I'll tell them to let uh, Michael and Budd pick up the slack."

 _Marcus and Doug_ – he wanted to correct, but he was far too busy thinking over the request.

It was cruelly ironic, to say the least, and he didn't know how to respond.

Had it been the day before, when he was still reeling on a high from their lunch together, he would've agreed in a heartbeat. But now, knowing that the very idea of her with another man still left him unsettled, he began to think better of it.

He must have been taking too long to respond, because Dean suddenly offered, "I'll make sure you're compensated for it, I'll even double your pay for the week if you want."

Fitz held his breath. He certainly needed the money, and the offer was already tempting enough as it was. Truthfully, the prospect of spending more time with Olivia was incredibly enticing, but that also meant that it was incredibly dangerous. He knew the more time he spent with her, the more he'd be setting himself up for disappointment.

And yet, as he turned the decision over in his mind, he couldn't help but think of how beautiful she looked sitting in his passenger seat, how easily she had gotten him to open up, how much he enjoyed simply being with her.

"I'll do it," he finally answered.

His boss chuckled. "I should've started with the money."

But money was the last thing on Fitz's mind.

* * *

Just as he had been told, Fitz pulled up in front of her apartment at 8 a.m. sharp that Monday morning with the directions to her office already in his GPS. When he didn't see her anywhere near the entrance, he continued down the block until he could park and decided to circle around in another five minutes.

He took the time to look himself over, running one hand over his suit jacket and the other through his hair.

He was nervous.

He tried to tell himself that he wasn't, but the slight churning of his stomach and the rapid beat of his heart told him otherwise.

He was nervous – hardcore, high school crushing nervous – and it made him feel every bit as juvenile.

 _They were friends._

He reminded himself, the words practically now a mantra.

He took a deep breath and got ready to round the block again, but just as he reached for the gear shift, there was a knock on his passenger window. He was surprised to see Olivia standing there, coat and bag in her hands. Quickly, he rolled down the window and unlocked the door.

"Hi."

"Hi," she smiled, leaning into the window. "I'm sorry you wasted a trip, but I just came down to say I won't be needing any rides this week. I didn't even know Dean had asked you, but his assistant called and I don't have your number –"

"Olivia."

She stopped, her smile growing softer at his interruption.

"Just get in the car," he continued, a smile growing on his own face.

A long moment passed, and then, with a resolved sigh, she climbed into the passenger seat.

"Fine," she began to buckle herself in, "but this is the only day."

He nodded, taking the opportunity to watch her as she got settled. She looked as beautiful as ever, and he resisted the urge to tell her as much. She turned to him when she was done, and he caught the way her eyes roamed over him quickly. Before he could say anything, she tilted her head and reached out, adjusting his collar.

"There," she said with a definitive nod.

He grinned. "I should have you around when I get dressed in the mornings."

He paused, starting to grow embarrassed by the implication of his words, when she suddenly smirked.

"You should…" her voice trailed off, carrying something that sounded like an implication of its own. She blinked, then added quickly, "Because I definitely wouldn't have let you outside in that busy green tie you wore last week."

He let out a surprised laugh. "I'll make sure to burn it when I get home."

Her laughter joined his. It made him feel lighter, and he could sense the tension in his body slipping away as he relaxed into his seat and finally started to pull away from the curb.

"So how was your weekend?" She asked after a few minutes.

"Uneventful," he answered truthfully. "I did some cleaning, ran errands, jogged –"

"Wait, you jogged?"

He could hear the surprise in her voice.

"You sound shocked," he chuckled.

"I specifically remember you telling me that you _hated_ running when I mentioned that I ran regularly."

"That doesn't mean I don't do it." He shrugged. "I have to work out somehow, and gyms are expensive."

She was silent for a moment before suggesting, "We should run together some time, maybe one of the paths at Central Park."

He glanced at her, catching sight of a shy smile directed entirely at him.

Unable to suppress a grin, he nodded. "I'd like that."

He didn't know if they ever would actually get around to it, but right then and there, it didn't seem to matter.

After a moment, he returned the question, "What about you? How was your weekend?"

He regretted it as soon as it left his mouth. Although Dean had left Friday morning, he wouldn't be surprised to hear that he had planned some elaborate skype date or had his assistant order a parade of gifts to be sent her way. If there was one thing his eavesdropping and little experience with the man taught him, it was that Dean Shaw did extravagant, and he did it well.

"Pretty uneventful, too," she answered, much to his relief. "I mainly caught up on work and finished off a bottle of 1994 Châteauneuf du Pape my boss once gave me."

"That sounds –"

"Don't finish that sentence unless you're going to say amazing."

They laughed, and he shook his head.

"I was going to say productive."

"Oh, well that works too."

He glanced at her again and they shared a grin.

They grew quiet after that, the only sounds coming from his GPS. Several minutes passed before she suddenly reached out and turned it off. The car before him eased to a stop, allowing him to turn to her with raised eyebrows.

"Sorry," she scrunched up her nose adorably, the sight making his heart swell, "I hate the sound of that thing. I'll tell you how to get there."

"What?" He feigned surprise. "You don't like Bertha?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You named your GPS Bertha?"

A honk forced him to return his attention to the road.

"I had this teacher my freshman year of high school whose first name was Bertha. She had the most monotonous voice, and she'd drone on the entire class about the same thing." He smirked. "I thought it was fitting."

"That poor woman," she giggled.

"That poor woman made my life a living hell for an entire year," he shot back. "There will be no Bertha-sympathizing in this car."

As they both laughed, she began reaching for the radio.

"Fine." She turned it on, leaving it on the station he already had it on. "We'll table all Bertha discussions for the foreseeable future."

The music quickly filled the space between them, and he stole several glances at her as he drove, noting the serene look on her face as she tapped against her leg absentmindedly.

"Have I turned you into an avid jazz fan already?" He questioned eventually.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her gaze fall on him and a smile start to spread across her face.

"I may have listened to a playlist or two over the weekend."

Something about the thought of her listening to music at his suggestion brought a wide grin to his face.

"Maybe I'll let you borrow some of my CDs."

"I make no promises that you'll see them again," she responded nonchalantly. "I've always been notorious for forgetting to give them back."

"Oh trust me, I'll make sure I get them back." His tone was playfully threatening, and he turned to see that she was still looking at him intently.

"Is that so?"

He nodded silently. She didn't say anything at first, only smirking as her eyes stayed locked on his.

"Eyes on the road," she suddenly directed, pointing forward.

He returned his attention to the front slowly, still acutely aware of her attention on him.

"Make this next right."

* * *

They arrived at her office in no time, and she directed him to the parking garage. After putting the car in park, he watched as she began digging through her purse, expecting her to pull out some sort of key card when she instead produced two protein bars.

"Here." She handed one to him. "It's breakfast. Eat."

He accepted it with a smirk. "How do you know I haven't eaten yet?"

"I could hear your stomach growling the entire way over here." She laughed. "Now, eat."

"Thanks." He eyed the packaging. "I don't think I've had anything this healthy for breakfast since my mom used to shove oatmeal down my throat."

She groaned. "My mom used to make me eat the most disgusting porridge when it got cold out. I used to beg for a dog just so I'd have a way to get rid of it."

Chuckling, he continued, "As much as I hated it then, there are some days when I'd give anything to have it again." His voice grew unintentionally serious. "Sometimes I miss knowing there was someone looking out for me."

He turned when he felt her gaze on him.

"I know what you mean," she spoke quietly.

He didn't respond. There was a depth to her words that told him she understood – that she knew loss and loneliness as well as he did. It stirred something deep inside him, and made him want to reach out for her. He wanted to talk about it all with her – to discuss life and loss and love – with her in his arms and the rest of the world kept at bay.

It was a foreign feeling that left him unnerved, and he abruptly turned away.

They were silent for a long moment, when she suddenly spoke up, "Tell me something."

He couldn't contain his grin at her request, recognizing his own words immediately.

"I don't know if there's anything left for me to tell."

He took a bite of his bar before turning to her. She was still staring at him, her brows now furrowed in contemplation.

"Oh I know." She suddenly smirked. "What were you like in high school…all things Bertha aside?"

He chuckled. "Why would you want to know that?"

"Oh," she crossed her arms and titled her head, "did I hit a soft spot?"

When he didn't say anything, she gasped playfully. "I _did_."

"You didn't." He let out another laugh as she gave him a pointed look. "Ok so I don't have the greatest memories of high school," he finally relented, his hands raised.

"What? Did they stuff you in lockers? Make you do everyone's homework?"

"No," he shook his head, "it was more like the other way around."

"No way." Her eyes were wide with amusement, and he couldn't help but chuckle. "You were a bully?"

"Bully is such a strong word –"

"I can't believe you. So not only did you torment your poor teacher –"

"Hey, I said that woman tormented me –"

She leaned forward, pressing an accusatory finger into his chest. "– but you also tortured your innocent classmates."

He grabbed her hand before she could pull it back, holding it in place. "They weren't _that_ innocent."

She giggled, shaking her head. "I don't believe that…" her voice trailed off, and she glanced down at their hands, still connected.

Embarrassed, he gently released his hold. Deciding not to ruminate on the moment, he quickly shared, "I had a big head back then. Everyone used to call me the golden boy and I believed them." He shrugged. "I've only been to one reunion, but those kids that used to sit in the back with their heads down, those are the ones who made a name for themselves."

He was silent for a moment, and then, he added, "I sometimes think that I'm just one of those people who peaked early – that maybe those were the glory days, and I'll just spend the rest of my life trying to live up to them."

"You want to know what I think?"

Her eyebrows were raised and her expression unreadable.

Slowly, he nodded.

"I think the best is still ahead." At his look of confusion, she smiled softly. "I mean, think about it. You said yourself that you did what you were supposed to do, went through the motions, but then, someone set fire to that picture-perfect life, and…"

"And what?"

He rarely felt comfortable discussing the trajectory of his life and had only done so with few other people, but talking about it with her so candidly seemed almost natural.

"And you still need to figure out what you want." She paused, watching for his reaction. "I think once you figure out what _you_ want from life, you'll get a lot more out of it."

He had never given it much thought before, but she was right.

He always did what everyone wanted him to do – said what everyone wanted him to say – and assumed it was for the best. But, now looking back, not once had he been truly fulfilled by any of the paths laid before him. The more he thought it over, the more he realized no one had ever encouraged him to figure out what he really wanted – let alone to go after it. No one except for her.

"I…" he didn't know what to say, instead turning to the side.

Almost immediately, her hand was on his arm. "I'm sorry if I overstepped –"

"No," he returned his gaze to her, placing his hand atop hers, "I appreciate it. Thank you."

"Anytime." She smiled, and he slowly removed his hand as she did the same.

They were quiet again, when she said suddenly, "I was captain of the debate team in high school."

He grinned. "So while you were off in Europe, you were captain of the swim team and debate team?"

"And top of my class."

He scoffed. "I definitely would've stuffed you into a locker."

Gaping, she playfully punched him in the arm.

"Some friend you are."

Before he could respond, her phone rang.

She raised it to her ear, her eyes not leaving his. "Hey Cy…yeah…ok take a deep breath…I'll be up in a minute."

Hanging up, she feigned a grimace. "I have to head up early."

He nodded, watching as she started to gather her things.

"Thanks again for breakfast."

"Thank you for the ride." She glanced at him a final time before opening the door. "I'm meeting a friend right after work, so you don't have to pick me up. I guess I'll see you –"

He reached for her hand just before she got out. "Tomorrow."

She turned, eyeing their joint hands. But rather than pull away this time, he felt suddenly emboldened and tightened his grip for a moment.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

She smiled softly, hesitantly. "Ok, tomorrow."

* * *

 _"I can't believe you got off for the week."_

"I'm not off, I'm just doing…other work."

 _"Yeah, well compared to the load you left over here, I'd definitely still say you have the week off."_

"Did you just call me to complain, Walker?"

 _"Pretty much."_

Fitz rolled his eyes, about to respond when there was a knock on his window. Glancing to his right, he smiled at the sight of Olivia waving a paper bag in front of her face.

"I've gotta go. Good luck with everything."

 _"Wait –"_

He promptly hung up and unlocked the door.

"Hi," she greeted, sliding into the seat.

"Hi."

He eyed the bag as she got settled.

"What's in the bag?" he gestured towards it as he began driving.

Beaming, she immediately opened it. "I'm out of protein bars, and I figured we could have something a little more filling." She took out a croissant, waving it in front of his face. "My friend – the pepper spray one – owns a bakery, and she brought me some before our run this morning. They're fresh and –"

He didn't wait for her to finish and leaned forward, taking a bite. Letting out a groan, he took a hand off the wheel and reached for it.

"That's amazing."

"Isn't it?"

He licked his lips and glanced at her, just barely catching sight of her gaze quickly shifting from him to the bag. He chose to ignore the feeling of his face heating and cleared his throat.

"Thanks." He gestured to the croissant as he took another bite.

"Don't mention it."

They rode in silence for a long while as they both ate. At a light, he finished the last of his food and, after dusting the crumbs from his fingers, toyed with the buttons on the radio until the CD player turned on. The sweet crooning of Ella Fitzgerald flitted from the speakers, and within seconds – much to his surprise – Olivia began to hum along.

 _It's not the pale moon that excites me_

 _That thrills and delights me, oh no_

 _It's just the nearness of you_

"This has always been one of my favorite songs," she said after a moment.

He grinned. "Mine too."

 _It isn't your sweet conversation_

 _That brings this sensation, oh no_

 _It's just the nearness of you_

She continued to hum, the sound flooding him with warmth, and he suddenly became acutely aware of the song's lyrics. They seemed fitting – too fitting – and he couldn't help but feel exposed. He held his breath as Louis Armstrong's rasp joined in, wondering if she could sense just how true the words rang. He certainly hadn't done it on purpose and started to regret his song choice. But just as his fingers began itching to change it, he pulled into the parking garage.

The second he put the car in park, she turned to face him completely, laying her head against the headrest. She didn't say anything for a long moment before finally asking, "What are you doing for lunch?"

"Well that depends." His eyes ran over her face, memorizing her features for what felt like the hundredth time. "I'm at your service all week. What did you have in mind?"

She smiled slyly. "Can you meet me here around one?"

He considered her for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I'll see you then."

* * *

When she slid into the car ten minutes after one with a wide grin, the last place he expected to end up at was Barneys. During the ride, she simply read off directions to the department store, not telling him where exactly they were going until they were about to pull up. When he put the car in park and didn't show signs of moving from his seat, she looked at him confusedly.

"What are you doing?"

He returned an almost identical look. "I'm waiting."

She laughed and shook her head, taking it upon herself to unbuckle his seatbelt.

"No, you're coming with me."

Still confused, he got out and locked the door, quietly following her into the store. She didn't give any hints as to what they were doing, only expertly guiding him from one department to the next. She finally came to a stop in front of the tie selection.

"Ok." She clasped her hands together and turned to him. "Take your pick."

He eyed the ties, then her.

 _Did she just want his opinion? Was it supposed to be a gift for someone?_

Almost immediately, images of his boss bombarded his thoughts, sending a shot of bitterness straight through him. For the past two mornings, he had allowed himself to forget – even if only briefly – the circumstances that surrounded their relationship. He was just Fitz, and she was just Olivia, and they just worked well together.

He frowned, his brows furrowing under the sudden weight of reality. "I don't think I'd be much help." He took a step back. "I'm just going to wait in the car."

"Fitz?"

He knew he had been setting himself up for disappointment, but the sting of it still caught him by surprise. Maybe he had been right originally to keep his distance. He was playing with fire, and he was bound to only continue to be burned…

"Fitz," she called again, reaching for his arm as he started to walk away.

Her expression was colored by confusion, her eyes narrowed slightly and her lips settled into a small pout. "Why are you going back to the car?"

He shook his head, trying to mask his frustration as he chuckled dryly and responded, "Trust me, you don't want me picking out ties for anyone. I mean, you already made me get rid of one of mine –"

"Which is why I'm getting you another one." Her face lit up with a small smile, and she gestured to the display. "Your choice."

He stood, stunned, for a moment before running a hand through his hair. "You're not serious."

"Oh I'm serious."

And she was. She looked at him pointedly, making him shake his head. "Come on, Liv."

She stepped towards him, her gaze growing sharper by the second. "Pick. A. Damn. Tie. Fitzgerald."

His eyes went wide for a moment before he began chuckling. "Full name? Really?"

As her giggles joined his laughs, the world seemed to shrink again. There was only them – just Olivia and Fitz – and it just seemed right.

"Ok," she spoke as their laughter died down, "now, really, pick one. I think one of these would be nice." She led him to a table covered by more shades of blue than he could ever remember seeing.

"I appreciate the offer, Liv," he said honestly. "But I'm not going to let you spend –" he picked up a tie to glance at its price, his eyes immediately going wide, "$220? For a tie?"

"Ok, so maybe not that one," she took it from his hands and rolled it back up, returning it to the table. "What about this one?" She held another up to him and tilted her head to the side.

"Liv," he shook his head, "come on, put it back. We can go get lunch or –"

"Hello, do you two need help?" He turned to find an eager sales associate standing only a foot away. "Any special occasion you're shopping for?"

Olivia faced him, smiling politely. "Hi," she glanced at his name tag, "Mark. No, not today. We're just looking for something for work."

"Oh, well did you have anything specific in mind? Solid? Patterned?" He reached for one on the table. "If your husband wants one like what he's wearing now, I think this is –"

At the mention of husband, he sucked in a breath and promptly let out a loud, surprised cough. Olivia glanced at him, an amused expression on her face as she patted his back gently.

"Sorry, Mark – uh, fiancé, actually."

"Oh," his eyes lit up, "congratulations!"

When he turned to reach for another tie, Fitz pushed aside his shock to give her a pointed look. She shrugged innocently and returned her attention to Mark.

"That's the one." She gasped, reaching for the tie he had just picked up.

Immediately, she threw it over Fitz's shoulder and directed him to a mirror.

"Look, it's perfect."

He looked it over. It did look good, really good. The silk was colored a soft blue, accented by alternating lines of gray and a deeper, navy blue. In a way it almost reminded him of –

"It complements your eyes." She stood behind him on her tiptoes and placed her head on his shoulder. He watched her eyes drift from the tie to his own eyes in the mirror. "Really well, actually."

Their gazes remained locked, and he was suddenly struck by a surge of desire. Though it was all in the name of innocent fun, the pretense of her being his fiancée was immediately at the forefront of his mind. His thoughts filled with images of mornings starting out like this – her picking out his ties, them getting dressed together in the mirror; it made something deep inside him ache for the chance to call her his, and his earlier frustration returned tenfold.

But before he could think on it too long, Mark suddenly approached him. "So is this the one?"

She looked at him expectantly, her eyes suddenly wide and pleading, and her lips forming a small pout. As much as he wanted to say no, he couldn't – not when she was looking at him like that, and his head was still swimming with thoughts of them together.

He nodded slowly, and her face instantly lit up with a smile.

"This is the one, Mark."

* * *

Ten minutes later, they were returning to the car – him with a new tie in his hand, and her with a pep in her step. Once they got settled, he turned to her, a slew of questions racing to leave his mouth.

"So, fiancé huh?"

It came out first, without warning. She looked embarrassed for a total of five seconds before smirking and folding her arms.

"I was just trying to not make things awkward for poor Mark, unlike some people."

He shook his head, chuckling, "Alright, fair point." He peeked at the slim box filling the bag in his lap. "But, I can't accept this." He tried to hand it to her. "Liv, it's too much –"

"Fitz," she pushed his hand back, "it's yours. You're keeping it." Before he could refuse, she continued, "Consider it a gift."

He just barely contained the smile threatening to spread across his face. "A gift for what?"

She thought it over for a moment. "All the birthdays and Christmases I haven't known you for."

Her words were playful, but, for the second time in that hour alone, they spurred an ache deep within him. His gaze turned serious, and – obviously sensing that something had changed – she looked at him curiously, her smile starting to falter.

Before he had time to think, he gently grabbed her hand and ran his thumb over the back of it. He was silent for a while, and then, "Why didn't I meet you sooner?"

It was all he could think to say – the most honest expression of his sudden longing.

His words hung heavily in the air, their weight pushing everything else to the side. Again, the space around them seemed so small, the world momentarily confined to them and them, alone.

A myriad of emotions flashed across her face: surprise followed by fear, and then, at last, yearning – her final expression closely mirroring his. "Fitz –"

"I'm sorry," he spoke, but his hand continued to hold hers. "I shouldn't have said that."

She shook her head, opening and closing her mouth several times before finally sighing. When another minute passed and she still hadn't said anything, he let go of her hand and started the car. He didn't know what he had been thinking, but he knew he shouldn't have said anything. He suddenly felt dwarfed by embarrassment; it seemed to smother him until all he could hear was a consistent roar in his ears.

It became so loud and so overwhelming that he didn't hear her calling out to him until she placed a hand on his leg.

"Fitz?" She called again, softly.

He stopped the car short just before they entered traffic and turned to her. She swallowed, and for a moment, he thought she still wasn't going to say anything.

But then, her eyes softened, and he could practically see the last of her resolve melting away.

"I don't regret it," she finally said, looking away briefly. "That night, meeting you, being with you – I don't regret it. I...I think about it a lot, actually." Her eyes met his again, and his chest tightened. In that moment, she appeared so open, so vulnerable that he swore he could see all of her. "I just thought you should know."

* * *

 **A/N: The song used is "The Nearness of You" by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: It's finally up! I've been working on this chapter for a while and got the worst writer's block every time I tried to come back to it. Thank you for all your reviews and encouragement, because that really is what keeps me coming back and helps me work through whatever funk I'm in. I'm sorry it took so long, but I'm very happy to be back to this story. I hope y'all let me know what you think.**

* * *

"He did what?"

"Oh you heard right. We nearly lost the entire account in less than five minutes."

Olivia shook her head in disbelief. "That's –"

"Moronic? Imbecilic? The reason James has already picked out my grave plot? Trust me, I know."

She watched her boss run a hand over his face, now red with anger.

"Don't fire him," she advised when he stopped pacing long enough to reach for the phone on his desk. "Jared has some ways to go, but...he's sweet, Cy."

"Sweet?" Cyrus looked at her as if she had grown two heads. "Sweet doesn't keep this place up and running, Liv. I didn't expect him to be able to fill your shoes, but I also didn't expect him to be this incompetent." He let out a breath, sinking into his chair and pressing his palms into his eyes.

"Cy," she leaned forward, repeating when he didn't respond, "Cy?"

He removed his hands to reveal uncharacteristically anxious eyes.

"It's just a lot, Liv. Without Verna..."

"I know." She nodded sympathetically.

Although he had put up a brave front, ever since his business partner's passing a few months prior, he was plagued with juggling the stress that they had so long shared when it came to overseeing the firm. And she wasn't the only one to notice; on more than a few occasions, his husband had called to complain that he was badgering their daughter – her poor goddaughter – during story time with rants about the "pigheaded wastes of human cells," he interacted with on a daily basis.

"One of these days, I'm going to retire and just hand the entire place over to you."

"Yeah right," she shook her head, "you're way too much of a workaholic to retire before you're on your deathbed."

"Even then, James will probably have to pry a file or two from my cold, dead hands."

They shared a laugh and each reached for the lunches they had set on his desk, hers a salad from home and his a hearty burger his assistant had picked up from Five Guys.

"So tell me," he started a minute later, "how are things with you and Shaw's boy?"

Surprised by the question, she shoved her salad around with her fork and shrugged.

She hadn't spoken to him since their falling out the night before he left, and truth be told, she had barely noticed. For the past week, their relationship had been reduced to a one-way stream of good morning texts and late-night phone calls, all of which she let go unanswered.

Almost instantly, her thoughts drifted to Fitz.

They had been playing a dangerous game during the past week, and she knew it. For all their talk of friendship, they flirted like lovers, and being with him made her forget anyone else even existed.

She enjoyed every second she spent with him by day and wrestled with the guilt of it all by night. But the truth of the matter was that whatever it was between them wasn't intentional – it never had been – and she was beginning to wonder where they were supposed to go from there. _Were_ they supposed to go anywhere?

"Liv?"

She blinked, reigning in her thoughts and returning her attention to Cyrus. "Huh? Oh, yeah, we're...ok."

It was a lie, a boldfaced lie. It felt wrong even leaving her mouth, but she had no interest in fleshing out the messy details of her love life with her boss, regardless of how close they were.

He eyed her curiously. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she nodded quickly, clearing her throat, "Why do you ask?"

"I had James put you two down for the dinner party tonight, but now he's telling me I was supposed to make sure you were still a 'thing,' like we're in junior high." He rolled his eyes. "Well that, and James thinks Ella doesn't like him."

She vividly remembered the first time she had taken Dean to visit them. Ella cried nearly the entire time, stopping only whenever he was out of eyesight. James later called to say that it was a warning and that she should break up with him immediately. She found it hilarious at the time, but now she couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth to it.

"Wait," she suddenly looked up from her food, her eyes wide, "that's tonight? I thought it was Friday."

"Today is Friday." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you ok, Liv?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She sighed. "I just have a lot on my mind…" she trailed off before adding, "with all these upcoming meetings."

He nodded understandably, "I know what you mean. I have to meet with Harding later, and we both know how much of a pain in the ass he can be." With a huff, he leaned back into his seat. "Well, don't worry too much about the dinner party. James will probably try to keep you there all night, but he'll be too busy with his college friends after a drink or two. I can get you two out of there in an hour –"

"It'll just be me," she noted. "Dean's in Florida for work."

She was grateful for the available excuse, unsure of how she'd explain his absence otherwise.

"If you show up alone, James is going to kill me." Cyrus frowned. "He's trying to impress our new neighbors, they work for the Times" he continued with a roll of his eyes, "and he has this thing planned to a tee. If anything goes wrong and, God forbid, it's my fault, I won't hear the end of it. I told him you were bringing a guest, so please, bring a guest."

Stifling a laugh at his desperation, she shook her head. "Cy –"

"Liv," he cut her off, "I'm asking as your dear old friend and mentor. Don't you have someone else you could bring? What about Red?"

"So you can spend the entire night trying to convince her to ditch her own business and come back to work here?" She raised her eyebrows.

Cyrus shrugged shamelessly. "Desperate times, Liv."

"I'll see what I can do." Glancing down at her watch, she stood and started to gather her things. "I'm just going to get a head start on reviewing the McManus account so I can get out of here on time, since, on top of picking up my car from the mechanic, I now have to find a date for tonight."

"Sorry, kid," Cyrus offered halfheartedly. "See you at seven."

She started to walk out the door, stopping to glance at him, then his lunch, smirking. "You won't have to worry about whether I show up with someone if you don't find some mouthwash before you go home. James will kill you if he finds out you're having Ethan sneak you food off the strictly forbidden list."

He waved dismissively. "He'll get over it when I do that thing he likes."

"And that's my cue to leave."

* * *

At exactly five, Olivia emerged from her office, her phone sandwiched between her shoulder and ear as she quickly made her way to the elevator.

"Abby, are you sure you can't come?"

"Sorry, Liv, you know I'd put up with Cyrus for you, but David has had this reservation for weeks."

"I know, I forgot you mentioned that the other day," she sighed. "Can you think of anyone else who'd be free?"

"Carter," Abby immediately offered, "you know, if he's not doing algebra homework."

Abby laughed as Olivia groaned, shaking her head at the thought of Abby's high school-aged employee who gawked at her every time she stepped foot in the bakery.

"I'm serious, Abby."

"So am I," she's snickered, continuing after a moment, "why don't you ask your new friend, _Fitz,"_ she emphasized his name with a sultry tone that made Olivia regret sharing anything of their time together with her.

"I'm not asking him to come with me to a dinner party."

"I don't see why not," Abby spoke nonchalantly, "you've already gone on dates, and you even bought him an anniversary present."

"We haven't been on any dates," she scoffed, "and the tie was just a thank you gift for driving me around."

Though she tried to play it off, Abby's words struck a chord. She knew there was far more truth to her friend's implications than she was willing to give her credit for. In fact, she didn't need Abby's assertions to tell her that they had tiptoed off the narrow line of platonic friendship.

"If you say so," Abby conceded insincerely. "But I still think you should invite him."

"Abby, no –"

"Come on, Liv, you guys are actually friends, right? What's the big deal? It'd be no different than if I went."

The line grew quiet, and Abby blew out a long breath.

"You really have feelings for him, don't you?"

"No," she responded far too quickly. A beat passed, and the elevator doors opened to let in a few more people. Lowering her voice, she admitted, "I mean, I don't know. It's too soon…" she trailed off unconvincingly.

"Is it? Or do you just think it should be?"

"Look, I have to go."

As soon as the doors opened, she was ready to hang up, but Abby quickly spoke, "What's the worst that could happen? You've been doing the same song and dance with Dean for years and look where that's gotten you –"

"Exactly, look where it's gotten me." Her voice grew louder again with exasperation, as she made her way through the parking garage, "Things are complicated, and the last thing I need to do is jump straight into another relationship."

"Hate to break it to you, Liv, but it sounds like you're already halfway there."

Olivia's steps slowed as she noticed Fitz standing outside his car, leaning against the passenger door.

"I really have to go."

With an amused snort, Abby snuck out a quick, "Tell loverboy I said 'hi'," before hanging up.

Dismissing her friend's words, Olivia tucked her phone back into her purse and approached him.

"Hi."

"Hi, stranger," he smiled, opening the door for her.

It had been less than two days since she had seen him last, but she instantly noted how much she had missed the warm welcome of his crooked grin. Their last ride together – the day after their department store visit – was unusually silent, as she'd spent the entire morning trip buried in emails... and desperately trying to ignore how flustered she felt around him.

After working through lunch, she later found herself blowing off steam with Abby, as a quick trip after work to drop off her car at the mechanic turned into a stop at none other than Angel's Remorse. One hour and two drinks later, when the liquor had loosened her tongue and she felt entirely stuck in the surrounding swamp of memories, she couldn't help but gush about her time with Fitz. Abby merely watched on with raised brows; there were many things she had witnessed Olivia Pope do since their first days together in grad school, but gushing over someone certainly wasn't one of them.

They finished the night at Abby's apartment, where she promptly decided to crash once discovering a – supposedly borrowed – stockpile of her own clothing in her best friend's closet. The next morning, she contacted Lucia to pass along the message that she was riding in to work with Abby, calling the young woman back only hours later to also share with Fitz that she would be getting a ride home from Cyrus. And that brought her to this morning, when Lucia returned the message with one on Fitz's behalf; one of the drivers was sick, and they needed him at work that morning to pick up some clients.

She hadn't expected the immediate pang of disappointment she felt at the news, the sullenness in her own tone as she offered a brief reply of, "Oh, ok," catching her by surprise.

"So, where to?"

The sound of his voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned to him after buckling in.

"Just the mechanic, the one you told me about. I dropped off my car the other night."

"Good," he nodded, "Charlie's good at what he does, and I can talk him into giving you the friends and family discount."

He started to reach for the radio, but she beat him to it, toying with the buttons until she reached her usual station.

"It's my last ride," she pointed out, as she could practically feel the disapproval in his stare before turning to him for confirmation. "I deserve radio privileges."

Just barely hiding a smile, he shook his head. "What happened to you being a fellow jazz enthusiast?"

Shrugging, she responded simply, "I missed my R&B."

"I think that's fair." He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze growing less playful and more intense as he took her in. Suddenly, he asked, "How was your day?"

She thought the question over. "Busy, but the good kind of busy. I had a few meetings that went a lot better than I thought they would and…you probably don't care about the details," she laughed, shaking her head.

His hands on the steering wheel, he kept his foot on the brakes and turned to her. "I care about whatever you want to share with me," he stated firmly.

The genuineness in his words made her breath hitch, and she was suddenly aware of how few people in her life seemed to care the way he did. With a small smile, she watched him pull out of the parking space, continuing,

"Ok, so there's this client – I probably shouldn't be telling you this, so you have to promise not to repeat it to anyone…"

* * *

"Alright, Ms. Pope, you're good to go."

Olivia smiled gratefully at the man handing her back her car keys. "Thank you, I appreciate it."

"Anything for a friend of Fitz," Charlie nodded in his direction, and they both turned to watch as Fitz walked around her car, inspecting it for a third time. "If you can put up with that son of a bitch, you deserve some sort of compensation."

"I heard that Charlie," Fitz called out, making his way over to them.

"Everything look good enough for you, boss?" Charlie questioned sarcastically.

"If I said no, would you do anything about it?"

"Nope." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of licorice, snapping a bite off the end.

Chuckling, Fitz shook his free hand. "Well, thanks for helping Liv out."

Seemingly without thinking, he rested a hand on the small of her back. She bit her lip at the contact, thanking Charlie a final time before Fitz guided her back over to her car.

"Looks like you're all set." He looked her car over once more, still not moving from his spot by her side.

"Looks like I am." She toyed with her keys, stalling to finally unlock the door. She turned to him. "Thank you for everything, Fitz, really."

"The pleasure was all mine." He offered a smile, the hesitance held in its halfhearted curve mirroring her own reluctance to leave.

"I guess I'll see you around." She unlocked and opened the door, prepared to climb in when he stopped her.

"Liv, wait."

She turned to see that he was fumbling with his phone. A moment later, he handed it to her opened to a new contact. Without hesitation, she entered her information and handed it back to him. He tapped on the screen several times before she heard her own phone ding with a new text in her bag.

Taking a step closer, Fitz locked his gaze intently with hers. "If you need a ride...or anything at all, you call me, ok?"

With a nod, she repeated quietly, "Ok."

They stayed in place for a long moment, eventually separating to get into their own cars. She adjusted her seat and mirrors, but held off on putting the car into drive. Her gaze drifted to Fitz once he was settled back in the Lincoln, and she realized he was waiting for her to go first.

A beat passed when his eyes met hers, and he mouthed, "You ok?"

She nodded, but her hand remained frozen on the gear shift. Still watching her curiously, he began to wave her off. She let out a laugh as his brows furrowed and he started using both hands to shoo her away with increased gusto.

As she watched his movements give way to his own laughter, she realized she wasn't ready to be away from him just yet, and Abby's words echoed in her ears.

 _To hell with it._

Before she had a chance to think on it any further, she grabbed her phone. No sooner than it started ringing did she see him pick up.

"Yes?"

"I have a favor to ask."

* * *

Olivia shifted her balance from one foot to the other, letting her eyes scan the mirror in a final appraisal of her outfit choice. After half an hour of trying and re-trying on half of her closet, she had decided on a blush pink, bloused-sleeve shift dress that she knew to complement her skin particularly well. After deciding to finish the look with nude heels, she had quickly freshened up her makeup and pinned her hair up in a carefully-crafted messy updo.

After she grabbed her clutch and an unopened bottle of wine, she checked her watch a final time, cursing under her breath as she realized she was five minutes late. A minute later, she was on the elevator, only a floor above the lobby when the reality of what she was about to do hit her fully.

She was going on a date with Fitz.

Well, not entirely. She had asked Fitz to be her plus one to a dinner party, and while the word 'date' hadn't been mentioned once, the flutter in her chest made her feel otherwise.

Releasing a breath, she made her way through the lobby, only to stop abruptly at the sight that greeted her right outside the door. Directly in front of her building, leaning against the car's passenger door, was Fitz, donning a button down concealed by a burgundy V-neck sweater and a gray blazer.

An army of butterflies settled in her stomach, and she let her gaze linger, observing after a moment the way he fidgeted with the ends of his blazer, clenching and unclenching his jaw as he glanced down the block.

Within seconds, she approached him, immediately complimenting, "You look great."

Smiling shyly, he looked himself over. "You sure? I know you said it was more casual, but I didn't know if –"

"Fitz," she cut him off as she reached out to adjust his lapel, "you look great, really. Trust me."

She refrained from looking him over once more, feeling her cheeks heat at just the thought.

"I should be the one saying that to you." He suddenly grinned.

It was her turn to smile sheepishly, and she quickly brushed off the comment. "We should get going. The earlier we get there, the earlier we're allowed to leave."

"Well, when you put it like that." With a smirk, he opened the door for her.

* * *

"Ok make this next right, and just park wherever you see a free spot."

A little over forty minutes after they had left, Fitz pulled into a spot conveniently only a few houses down from Cyrus' and James' brownstone. She recognized several of the other cars lining the block and glanced at the clock to confirm that it was only ten minutes after seven, just late enough for them to dodge the first few minutes of awkward introductions and easily join right in with the crowd.

"I can't thank you enough for this." She turned to Fitz.

"I know," he grinned, "you said it at least once every five minutes on the way over here."

"I mean it." She returned a soft smile of her own, flicking a stray strand of hair from in front of her eyes. "I didn't assume you would – I mean, you didn't have to…"

He shrugged. "I didn't have anything better to do, and you're not the _worst_ company I've ever kept."

She scrunched up her nose. "Well, thanks, I guess."

They both laughed until he suddenly reached out to her, pushing back the same strand of hair that had again fallen in her eyes. Instead of returning to his side, his hand lingered on the side of her face, and then, gently, almost hesitantly, he held her chin.

"I told you, anything you need. Just call me."

She felt her entire body hum, every part of her buzzing at his words, at his eyes so clear and piercing, at the sweet burn of his touch.

She wanted to kiss him.

She wanted to forget the dinner party, to forget whatever murky relationships she was still tethered to, to lose herself entirely in the feeling of him like she should have that night.

She knew he could sense it too. She could see it in the way his eyes roamed over her face repeatedly, pausing at her lips, and in the way his own lips seemed to twitch in anticipation. She nearly closed her eyes, nearly called to him with an imploring sigh when he suddenly removed his hand and leaned back.

"Are you ready to go in?"

The casualness of his tone did little to hide the strain in his voice, and she had the immediate, irrational desire to ask him why he was depriving them of what they both so obviously wanted. But before the words could slip past her filter, he was outside, walking over to open her door.

"Thanks," she mumbled, still in a daze. She barely noticed when he grabbed the bottle of wine from her hands so that she could slide out of the car and reach for her clutch.

They walked down the block quietly, the silence between them uncomfortable perhaps for the first time. She glanced at him despite herself, noticing the slight squint in his gaze and the way he seemed to grip the bottle with as much strength as the glass would allow. She wasn't sure what to make of his tenseness until they reached the bottom of the stairs of their hosts' home and he hesitated.

 _Oh._

Instantly, she remembered his earlier unsureness over his outfit, and she nearly kicked herself for not putting two and two together. She was so caught up in her own frayed nerves, she hadn't truly considered his.

"Fitz," she rested a hand on his shoulder, calling his attention to her, "they're good people, I promise, and I'll be right by your side the entire time."

She could see the moment he let himself start to relax. His shoulders eased back, and the ends of his lips curved upwards slightly into a small, crooked smile.

"Ok," he nodded.

Smiling reassuringly, she absentmindedly took his hand in hers. "Ok."

* * *

"Well, look who showed up fashionably late." James quipped playfully the moment he let them inside, his grin wide as he took her in.

"I think you mean right on time," she quickly shot back.

"Well I won't argue with you there." He helped her remove her jacket, hanging it on the coat rack as his eyes finally fell on Fitz. "And you brought a friend," he noted enthusiastically, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "Or more than a friend? You mean to tell me you _finally_ dropped that dead weight and upgraded to – what are you, some type of model," he looked Fitz over again pointedly, "and didn't even so much as mention it to me."

She struggled to stifle a laugh at Fitz's wide eyes, shaking her head as she corrected, "This is Fitz, and he's a friend."

She didn't have time to think of how wrong the words sounded, regardless of how many times she had repeated them to herself, because James' gaze suddenly shifted downwards, narrowing in like a laser.

Confused, she followed his line of sight until she realized he was looking at their joint hands. Her entire face flushed, and she clumsily separated her hand from his.

Smirking as he glanced between the two, James offered his own hand for Fitz to shake. "Well, welcome, Fitz. I'm James, I'm sure Liv has said only amazing things about me."

"Of course," she indulged him as she watched the two shake hands. "Now, where are Paul and Lara? I saw their car out front."

She was eager to join the rest of the guests. As well as she knew James, she knew his journalistic instincts sometimes got the best of him, especially where matters of the heart...or downright salacious were concerned. He was a dog with a bone, and would probably pester them all night if she let him.

"You know, they were just asking for you," he played along, but the way he looked them over once more told her he wasn't done with them just yet. "Come on, they're in the living room."

* * *

After a brief round of introductions not nearly as awkward as their encounter with James, the party of eight moved into the dining room. As she thanked Fitz for pulling out her seat, she noticed James checking his watch yet again, then eye the empty seats just to the right of his spot at the head of the table.

She leaned in to Cyrus, who was seated next to her at the other end of the table, and whispered, "Who is he waiting for? Isn't everyone here?"

"The new neighbors," he huffed. "You'd think for a couple that works at the Times, they'd know how to keep time, especially since they're right next door."

As if on cue, the bell rang, and James jolted up from his seat.

"I'll get that," he was halfway out the room in no time, calling out as he left, "Cy, can you start bringing out the appetizers?"

"Sure, honey," he resigned with less than half of his husband's enthusiasm.

"Let me help you with that."

She turned, surprised to see Fitz standing and ready to follow Cyrus into the kitchen.

"No, you sit." Cyrus shook his head, waving a hand as he rose from his seat. "If it's just me, I have an excuse to be in there longer, which means more time to sneak in a few of those cookies Randy brought. James won't let me so much as look at them." And with that he was gone.

Olivia couldn't help but smile as Fitz chuckled at his hasty departure.

"Your boss is…"

"I know," she laughed, "trust me, I know."

"So you two are really close?"

Nodding, she reached for the glass of water set in front of her spot. After taking a sip, she started to share, "I've known him since my first year of undergrad. He was at a debate competition I competed in, and after I won my round, he came up to me saying something about how I had a knack for spin," she smiled at the memory. "He went on and on about how I had a future in PR, and I honestly thought he was a little crazy until he gave me his card. He told me to keep in touch, and I did –"

"Don't forget the part about how he spent three years convincing you to come up here for grad school," Paul suddenly cut in from across the table.

"And thank God for that," Lara spoke up from beside him, "I swear, I would have left mid-semester if Liv wasn't in my class, tenure be damned. These kids don't know the first thing about anything these days."

"Now, wait a minute, Lar, if I remember correctly –"

"You probably don't –"

"You didn't do too well in Professor Michael's class when we were that age…"

Distracted by their bickering, Olivia jumped at the sound of Fitz's voice so close to her ear as he whispered, "You know, you always struck me as the teacher's pet type."

She suppressed a sigh at the feel of his breath tickling her ear and didn't get a chance to respond as James suddenly emerged from the entry way.

"Alright, everyone," he gathered the room's attention, "these are our new neighbors Lillian and Ethan Forrester." He continued the introductions, going around the table to say everyone's names, all the while Olivia's gaze settled on Lillian.

She eyed the woman curiously, trying to figure out why she seemed so familiar. She recognized the name, as she had read a few of her - rather bland, if she were being quite honest - pieces, but something told her they had met once before. As James guided the pair to their seats, she noticed the way Lillian's gaze seemed to linger on her as well.

 _So she wasn't making it up_.

She thought hard for a minute, running through all her contacts in the last few months, but still she came up empty. Not wanting to bother the woman, she simply decided they must have crossed paths when she was working on press for a client and returned her attention to the rest of the room.

James glanced in their direction and frowned when he saw Cyrus' seat empty. "Cy? Do you need help with those appetizers?"

"No!"

* * *

For all his earlier reservations, Fitz blended in with the group seamlessly. She bit back a smile as he debated sports with Randy and found herself completely enthralled as he discussed the current state of academia with Lara. While she knew intimately of his charm, she hadn't known him to be so downright charismatic, and seeing him work the room the way he did made her heart flip repeatedly throughout the night.

For a moment, she could so clearly see what his father must have – that spark, that natural allure that would've made him the best lawyer, and probably the best politician in the game. But every time he turned to her, every time he leaned in to whisper a quick joke or simply focused every ounce of his attention on her as she spoke, she couldn't help but be grateful that fate hadn't led him down that path. He held something particularly endearing, something authentic that she wasn't sure would have survived in such a climate; it seemed to reach out to her, inviting something in her to reach out to him.

"Here," he suddenly offered, angling his dessert plate towards her. "You know you want to try it."

She glanced at the half-eaten chocolate lava cake, and though she was still too stuffed from dinner, she couldn't help but lick her lips at the sight of its liquid center spilling onto the plate. Without a word, she reached for the fork in his hand and took a bite, closing her eyes unintentionally as the dessert danced on her tongue.

When she opened her eyes, she found Fitz staring at her intently. At once she remembered the way he had reacted when she took a sip of his scotch, an almost identical barrage of tension settling heavily between them.

"So, Fitz," a voice called out, effectively interrupting the moment "where is it you said you worked again?"

They both turned their attention to Lillian, who had asked the question all the way from the other end of the table.

Olivia frowned, she had been receiving unpleasant vibes from the woman since she had gotten settled, catching the way her curious glances in their direction had quickly given way to something akin to judgment early on. As conversations had rarely spanned the entire table, and she knew James wanted to impress the woman and her husband, she refrained from commenting, but now, she couldn't ignore the aversion spreading in her gut at the way she singled out Fitz.

"I don't think I've mentioned it," he tried to joke, and she could sense that her question made him equally as uneasy.

"Oh," she flashed a phony grin, "well, you mentioned you studied law, and I have a nephew straight out of law school who's trying to get some work. Maybe I could pass his resume along to you."

Olivia just barely contained her scoff.

 _How tacky._

"Which firm are you at? Ralph and Menez? Sullivan and Polk?"

"Uh, none," he cut her off, "I'm not at any firm."

Olivia rested a hand on his leg, signaling that she was ready to intervene, but he continued, "I, uh, actually work at Red Giant Jets."

Lillian's eyes went wide as if she had won the lottery, then immediately narrowed as she tilted her head, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Liv, isn't that Dean's company?" Someone other than Lillian called out, but Olivia was too preoccupied by what seemed an awful lot like an approaching ambush to notice who.

The woman's smile only grew at the comment, but yet, ignoring it, she continued, "Oh, are you legal counsel there, or..."

 _This bitch._

Olivia felt her stomach drop as she realized that this woman – whoever the hell she was – was goading him. She knew Lillian's type well, she had interacted with them regularly whenever she was on Dean's arm at some company party; another Manhattan elite who was high off her own status, always ready and aimed to shame someone for something they had no reason to be ashamed of. She had no idea how this woman knew anything about Fitz and why she had targeted him specifically, but she certainly wasn't going to stay and play whatever game she was getting at.

"You know what, Fitz and I were actually just about to leave –"

"I'm one of the company drivers," he stated bluntly.

The room grew silent, and she held her breath, uncertain of what she might let slip otherwise. She tried to calm her rage as she noticed Fitz still staring at Lillian head on, showing that he was not so easily rattled.

But, then, with a dismissive chuckle, she continued, "Well, maybe I should ask my nephew to help you get a job." Her laughter subsided as she continued, "I know it must have been hard, what with your father's face splashed everywhere. I mean, you are Gerry Grant's son, right? Fitzgerald Grant III…" she paused, obviously having waited to show off that particular discovery all night. After letting her words linger, she trailed off, "But chauffeuring? What an interesting career choice…"

In an instant, his face burned bright red and he lowered his gaze, and the last of Olivia's restraint snapped, quick and abrupt like a rubber band.

"Funny, I've said the same thing about you every time I've read an article of yours."

She vaguely registered Cyrus choking on his wine and a few quiet gasps as she took in Lillian's hardening eyes.

"Cy, James, thank you for having us, but I think we're going to go head out now." She glanced around the table, bidding everyone a silent farewell until she arrived at Lillian. "I'm sorry we can't stay longer, but at least now there will be enough space for both Lillian and her ego."

She didn't dare wait for a response, instead quickly grabbing Fitz's hand and guiding him to the front door. He helped her put her jacket back on, and they were nearly out the door when James came racing around the corner.

"Liv –"

"James," she sighed, closing her eyes, "I know you wanted to make a good impression, but I'm not going to apologize –"

"And I wouldn't want you to," he quickly interrupted. "I'm sorry," he looked pointedly at her, then Fitz, "really."

She smiled as much as she could, her body still buzzing with anger, and nodded. "Thank you again for tonight. Give Ella a kiss for me."

"Will do." He opened the door for them, whisper-yelling as they walked out, "I should've known about them like I knew about Dean, Ella cried when they came over to introduce themselves."

She spared an amused glance in his direction but didn't respond, keeping up with Fitz's pace as they quickly made their way to the car. He opened her door without looking at her, silently sliding into his side and almost immediately pulling out onto the road.

"Fitz," she breathed out when they reached a stop sign at the end of the block, "I'm so sorry, she shouldn't have – I didn't know anyone there would…"

"You don't have to apologize for her," he spoke curtly, and she frowned at the callousness creeping into his tone.

"Are you ok?" She stared at him for a long moment, studying the hard lines on his face. "Fitz? Fitz –"

"I'm fine, Olivia." Yet the edge in his voice told her he was anything but.

"Do you want to talk about it –"

"No, I don't want to talk. I just...I don't want to talk about it." He shook his head.

"Ok," she nodded, feeling increasingly guilty for the way their night had gone. Not wanting to frustrate him any further, she quietly agreed, "We won't talk."

They rode in complete silence the entire ride. She had closed her eyes and rested her head against the window after the adrenaline started to wear off, and she was only half conscious when he parked down the block from her building.

"Liv," he called out softly.

She lifted her head and blinked, rubbing at her eyes as she let out a yawn.

"Thank you," she grabbed her clutch and unbuckled her seatbelt, "and I'm sorry again about everything."

"Liv."

Even in her half-awake state, she recognized the urgency in his tone. Stifling another yawn, she looked at him and grew alert at what she saw. His expression was pained, his brows creased and his eyes sad.

She felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her and, without thinking, rested a hand on his cheek. As he continued to stare at her, his lips parting then closing again, she realized he was ready to talk.

"Come on." She stroked his cheek with her thumb, before pulling her hand away. "Walk me to my door?"

He didn't say anything, simply following behind as they made their way to her building. She nodded to greet Eddie, who quirked an eyebrow at them from the front desk, and fidgeted with her fingers while they waited for the elevator.

The ride up seemed to last longer than it ever had, and she grew increasingly anxious as they took turns stealing glances at one another. Just before they arrived on her floor, she finally met his eyes again. She realized then that they weren't sad as much as they were filled with...longing.

She at once sensed her heart beating furiously against her ribcage.

When the doors opened, she felt as though she were floating, her feet shifting so quickly she wasn't sure they were still even there. Fitz followed right behind, his body practically tethered to hers.

Rather than stop at her door like she intended to, she fumbled with her keys until he placed a steadying hand on her arm and guided it to the lock. Breathing in deeply, she unlocked her door and ushered him inside.

The moment the door closed behind them, she leaned against it and he stood directly in front of her. Slowly, he leaned down until his forehead rested against hers, every part of her melting at the contact.

"Liv," he sighed.

They were so close. All she had to do was lean up on her tiptoes, like she had so often when she was a child, when things were simple and comfortable and _safe_.

She swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath to try to clear her thoughts. It worked only slightly, just enough for her to whisper, "Talk to me, Fitz. Please."

He leaned back, and she immediately wished he hadn't. It was just enough for them to maintain easy eye contact, but she already missed the feel of his skin against hers.

He was silent for a long moment before finally speaking "I don't think I'll ever be the type of man who holds some grand title or fits in at dinner parties..." he sighed, running his hand through his hair.

"And what's wrong with that?" She challenged, watching him carefully. "Screw people like Lillian who think that's all there is to life."

He didn't respond, instead looking away, and she could see that he was starting to close himself off to her. Gently, she placed a hand on his cheek and guided his gaze back to her.

"Fitz?"

His frown deepened, and the longing returned to his eyes more earnestly, sending a chill down her spine.

He opened and closed his mouth several times, before finally responding, "I'll never be the type of man for a woman like you. I'll never…I'll never be Dean Shaw.

At once, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. His words sent a shock through her system, and she struggled to pay attention as she realized he wasn't done talking.

"You told me I needed to figure out what I want, and...I want you, Liv." This time, his words seemed to strike him as much as they did her. A flash of regret crossed his face, before he released a breath. "I want you, and I know I shouldn't, I _can't –_ "

She didn't give him a chance to finish.

The second her lips were on his, she reaffirmed that kissing him was the single most electrifying experience she had ever known.

The thrill of his mouth molding against hers felt even better than the last time, like standing in the eye of a hurricane – peace amidst chaos, refuge inside the wildest storm. He groaned into her mouth, wrapping his arms around her waist as she held his face in her hands, and she knew he could feel it too.

She sighed as his tongue started to brush against hers, and soon, he moved his hands to the back of her thighs, hoisting her up and allowing her legs to wrap around his waist. His lips continued to move against hers hungrily as he took a step forward, then another, and they collided forcefully with the door.

The sound of something crashing against the ground broke them apart.

His eyes were hooded and took a moment to fully refocus on her. Meanwhile, she glanced at the floor, cringing as she saw the cracked glass of his phone which must've slipped out of his pocket. He followed her gaze, then groaned.

"I knew I should've put a case on that thing."

She laughed softly, and he returned his attention to her. The air grew serious again, and she smoothed a hand over the back of his head, where some of his hair stood up courtesy of her wandering fingers.

"We shouldn't have done that," he spoke quietly, still holding her up.

"We probably shouldn't have," she agreed.

Slowly, he lowered her to the ground, and she instinctively placed her head on his shoulder. Hesitantly, he hugged her waist, and let his head rest on top of hers.

A minute passed before he muttered, "Liv?"

"Hmm?"

"What is this?"

It was a good question, a question that desperately needed an answer.

"This is me, wanting you too," she spoke honestly.

He let out a deep sigh and his grip tightened around her, staying that way for a long moment before he took a step back.

She frowned as he stared at her. He didn't say anything for a full minute, seeming to think his words over carefully.

"I was involved in an affair before," he suddenly admitted, much to her surprise, continuing before she could respond, "she was married, I was going through my divorce, and things got ugly." He paused, the memory obviously difficult to work through. "It was at my last job, she was another teacher at the high school. Word got out somehow, and we were both fired." He ran a hand over his face, and she took the opportunity to wipe the shock off of her own face. "It was a mess," he confessed with a sigh, "and…I can't go through that again."

His final words seemed to pain him as they left his mouth, and he didn't say anything after that, but he didn't need to. She realized that she needed to be straightforward with Dean – and herself – and needed to do so soon. If she wanted to try this, whatever "this" was, she'd need to do it with a clean slate.

"I'm going jogging in Central Park next Saturday," she spoke abruptly, "the Reservoir loop, if you want to join me?"

He looked at her confusedly, a tinge of frustration coloring his features. "Liv –"

"Just give me until next Saturday," she requested sincerely, growing relieved as understanding softened his features. "I just need until then, and if you still mean what you said, if you still want me...meet me there at three."

A beat passed before he nodded, a small smile settling on his face as he stepped towards her.

"It's a date."

They both grinned widely at his words, letting them sink in for a moment before he reached down to grab his broken phone.

Frowning, he looked it over. "Let's hope I can get this replaced before then."

Gently, he slid it back into his pocket and turned to her.

"I guess I'll see you Saturday."

She nodded. "See you Saturday."

Neither moved, and she could see practically see his internal debate as his gaze shifted from her eyes to her lips. She stood on her tiptoes so that her face was directly in front of his, inviting him to make the next move.

Grinning slyly, he leaned in and pecked her lips once. Then twice. And then a third time, before she rested back on her heels and stepped aside to let him walk to the door.

They both smiled, the moment feeling too much like a beginning for any goodbyes, and she watched him until he made it onto the elevator, waving a final time.

As she closed her front door, she couldn't stop the grin spreading across her face.

 _If only Abby could see her now_.

* * *

Olivia groaned loudly as her phone vibrated with another call for the third time in fifteen minutes. She knew it had to be some time before seven, because her internal clock had yet to wake her, and yet, someone was obviously hellbent on getting in contact with her.

She had a vague idea of who it could be, given that Dean's flight was scheduled to come in today, and she groaned even louder. She knew they needed to have the difficult conversation, but she was at least hoping it would be during more acceptable daylight hours.

Rubbing her eyes, she sucked in a deep breath and thought over the string of lines she had at the ready to make the break up as smooth as possible. But when she picked up with a mumbled, "Hello?" she wasn't met with Dean's usual cocky "Hey, babe," instead receiving a particularly startling, "Olivia, darling!"

She shot up in bed immediately and stared at her phone, certain her ears were playing tricks on her.

"Mrs. Shaw?" She questioned tentatively when she returned the phone to her ear.

"Yes, it's me, dearie, and I told you, it's Diane. How are you?"

Again, she looked at the phone as if she were imagining things. Dean's mother had been nothing shy of a headache since their first encounter, when she not-so-jokingly quipped that another woman was "worming her way into her son's life and trust fund." They had shared pleasantries in public at best and little more than unimpressed gazes in private, so she couldn't even begin to understand why the woman was contacting her at ungodly hours for...chitchat?

"What are you–? Are you ok, Mrs. Shaw? Why are you calling?"

"Oh, don't act confused, dear, I'm sure you know just why I'm calling."

 _And there it was._

The syrupy-sweetness of her tone suddenly took on a bitter edge, and Olivia leaned against her headboard, bracing herself for whatever hell the woman was about to unfurl.

"I've been meaning to call you for a few days now, actually, it's quite funny. See, I saw you at Barneys the other day and, then, my friend Lillian – you remember, Lillian, don't you, dear? She was at the office party where you and my son got engaged," she spoke her last few words slowly, emphasizing them as if talking to a child. "Well, Lillian said you two were at the same dinner party together, last night."

She felt the exact moment her stomach dropped, her heart simultaneously leaping into her throat.

"And it gets even funnier, since, you see, I didn't want to bother you at Barneys, because you looked very busy with that nice man, and it turns out he was with you last night, wasn't he? What is his name again, Fitz?"

She didn't answer, praying her silence would make the woman go away entirely.

"And doesn't he work for my son?"

 _Shit._

"I think you and I need to have a little talk about your future with my son and Fitz's future with our company."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I'm finally back! I'm sorry this update took so long, I've had the worst writer's block. Also, I just wanted to say that I do plan to continue this story. I've been sad since they wrapped, so I'll definitely need to keep myself occupied after the finale actually airs haha. As usual, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think.**

* * *

 _Unbelievable_.

It was the only word that had come to mind in the half hour since she had gotten off the phone.

She had experienced her fair share of melodrama in life; hell, at times boarding school and college had just seemed like one clusterfuck of movie cliches, but this? This was just... _unbelievable_.

In less than twenty-four hours, she had not only decided to throw caution to the wind for the man who made her feel more alive than she ever had – _talk about cliches_ – but now, she had been given an ultimatum by her almost-mother-in-law that directly involved said potential lover. The conversation had been rather straightforward and entirely one-sided, ending abruptly after Diane signed off with an oh-so-chipper "Ciao, darling!" like some Disney cartoon villain. Her demands were clear; while she may not have approved of her son and Olivia's relationship, she'd be damned if she allowed Olivia to "embarrass her poor son and the entire Shaw family by fraternizing with their employees."

It was like she had fallen down some type of daytime soap opera rabbit hole.

She couldn't help but laugh at the thought, wild giggles erupting the longer she considered the incredulity of the entire situation.

 _Un-fucking-believable_.

She quieted down after a few minutes, Diane's words ringing in her ears. She had volleyed back and forth between lobbing threats against Fitz's job, swearing that he wouldn't be able to find work in the entire tri-state area if she had anything to do with it, and warnings of what their "torrid affair" would do to Olivia's own reputation.

Olivia wanted to interrupt her, to remind Diane that she knew enough about company secrets and coverups to tank them in one news cycle, but she held her tongue. In the heat of the moment, she swore it was because she didn't want to show all her cards at once, but, in hindsight, she knew it might have been something else. She could protect herself easily, fend off Diane's vitriol without batting an eye, but Fitz...he'd still be out of a job when it was said and done. Diane had made it more than clear her threats stood even if she and Dean were no longer together; there was no way she'd let her son continue to employ the man his ex had left him for.

Immediately, she thought of their conversation from the night before.

" _It was a mess and...I can't go through that again."_

He had specifically told her that he couldn't sacrifice his livelihood because of a relationship again, and now here she was, with the power to either enable or prevent it from happening.

"Fuck," she groaned, grabbing a pillow from the other side of the bed and laying it over her face.

* * *

"This is your last free petit four." Abby slid another plate in front of her before taking a seat on the opposite side of the booth. "At least until you tell me what's wrong."

"I told you, it's nothing." Olivia shook her head as she took a bite.

"Nothing? Liv, you barely like sweets, and yet, in the past hour you've sampled my entire display case." Abby leaned in, brows raised. "What's wrong?"

Olivia sighed, staring intently at her plate.

"Liv?"

"I listened to you," she paused, eyeing a few incoming customers warily and lowering her voice. "I took Fitz with me last night."

Abby's face lit up instantly. "And?" As Olivia hesitated to respond, her face fell, her eyes narrowing. "Did something happen? Did he do something, because so help me –"

"Abby," Olivia quickly cut her off. "Something happened, but not like you're thinking. We, uh, we kissed."

Still a little wary, Abby questioned, "We? As in, you wanted to, right?"

Olivia nodded.

"So," Abby's face once again contorted, this time revealing her unsureness, "that's a good thing?"

"It was...and then it wasn't."

"I think you're going to have to give me a little more than that, Liv."

And so, taking a deep breath, she did. Minutes later, when she had caught Abby up on the last twenty-four hours, her friend leaned back in her seat and let out a low whistle.

"Wow."

"Yeah." Olivia nodded, letting out a humorless chuckle.

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"What can I do, Abby? We can't be together. I'm not going to let him lose his job over a relationship that doesn't even exist yet."

"That sounds more like you're making the choice for the both of you." Abby folded her arms, looking at Olivia pointedly.

"And why shouldn't I? He already told me he couldn't lose his job over us being together –"

"No, he told you he didn't want to lose it over being your mister-ress _._ "

Although she had left out the details of Fitz's past...dalliances, she was starting to regret sharing even the gist of their conversation from last night.

Rolling her eyes, she countered, "What's the difference?"

"The difference _is_ that he might be willing to face the wrath of Diane Shaw if you two are actually in this together, which is why you should speak to him before deciding what to do."

"I doubt he'll care whether we're 'in this together' a month from now when he can't find a job, Abby," she frowned, crossing her own arms. "And what happens then? We break up because he ends up resenting me? It's not worth it –"

To her surprise, Abby started to laugh.

"What are you – why are you laughing?"

"Because you need to cut the crap."

Already on the defensive, Olivia tilted her head. "Excuse me?"

As her laughter finally subsided, Abby pointed a finger at Olivia. "You," she emphasized, "need to cut the crap."

"I don't know what you're –"

"You're _scared_ , Liv."

Shrugging, she acceded, "Obviously I'm a little scared. I don't want a good man to lose his job for nothing."

"But that's just it, Liv. It isn't 'nothing' and that's why you're scared." Abby quickly shooed away one of her employees approaching their table and returned her attention to Olivia with laser-focus. "You want to be with him, like really be with him and that terrifies you."

Olivia tried to respond when Abby raised a hand.

"And don't tell me you aren't, because I can see the wheels turning in your head. You're using the first obstacle you can as an excuse to get out of this before it even starts."

Olivia scoffed. "Are you trying to say I'm afraid of commitment? Because Dean and I were together for years –"

"And you were miserable for most of them!" Abby's voice grew louder than she intended and they both shifted awkwardly under the sudden stares from other guests at the bakery. A moment later, she continued, practically whispering, "You've stayed with Dean because it's been safe and because, in the back of your mind, you always knew it wasn't real. And now, you have the opportunity for something new, something real, and, yeah, it might blow up in your face, but, Liv," her eyes softened and her voice grew more earnest, "it could also be really great."

Olivia looked away, suddenly feeling exposed.

"You should speak to him, let him know what's going on and then you can decide where to go next, _together_."

Releasing a shaky breath, she realized Abby was right and met her gaze once more. "And what if we decide it isn't worth it?"

"Then, maybe it isn't, but at least you can say you honestly tried." Abby offered a small smile, "And I'll make you as many petit fours as you can eat."

* * *

She stared hard at her phone, practically burning a hole into it. She had sworn she would make the call as soon as she got home, but Abby was right, she was...scared. Scared of what would happen if they chose to end things before they even started, and even more scared of what could happen if they chose to move forward together.

She pulled up Fitz's contact for what seemed like the hundredth time and counted down from ten. She made it to three, then, in a blaze of pent up nerves sent the call through.

It immediately went to voicemail.

She pulled her phone from her ear, about to try again when she suddenly remembered that he left with a broken phone the night before.

"Dammit." Rubbing her temples, she briefly considered calling Lucia for his contact information but quickly shot the idea down. If she knew Diane's type as well as she thought she did, there was no way she could go through Red Giant Jets to reach him without setting off alarm bells. She'd just try him again later in the week, and if not, they were still scheduled to meet up next Saturday.

She could barely finish the thought before her phone started vibrating. She held her breath as she looked down, sighing when she saw Cyrus' name flash across the screen. She considered not answering, and then realized it might have been a godsend. If there was one thing that could distract her from the growing avalanche of problems in her personal life, it was the familiar high of tackling problems in her professional life.

Without thinking on it another second, she quickly picked up.

"This better be important if you're bothering me on my day off."

* * *

Six days.

It had been six days and not a single thing had changed.

Fitz evidently still hadn't gotten a new phone, and, much to her surprise, Dean hadn't reached out at all. And while she would have liked to think that it was because he had just gotten the hint the week before, she couldn't help but worry that his mother had already said something to him. She knew she needed to first get a hold of Fitz and figure out where they stood, but then, regardless of what they decided, she would officially cut ties with Dean the way she knew she should have the night he had proposed; she wanted to leave no room for question.

She had allowed herself to be preoccupied with work the first few days, spending the remainder of her weekend happily bouncing between the office and Cyrus' place to manage a leak from a now-former Account Executive. They had managed to get on top of it after pulling every string imaginable, and Cyrus had even encouraged her to take a day or two off as compensation, but she had refused, choosing instead to spend late nights at the office. She needed to keep herself as busy as possible.

That is, until she had hit a wall sometime around Thursday morning. Even as a self-proclaimed workaholic, she started to realize she was overdoing it. Between all the extra hours at work and nights spent tossing and turning, with her mind being held captive by habitual overthinking, she was running on very little sleep and a hell of a lot of stress.

Cyrus had sent her home as soon as the clock hit five that evening, after catching her guzzling an uncharacteristically unreasonable amount of coffee, and threatened unconvincingly to fire her if she even thought of showing up the next day. She didn't bother to fight him on it at the time, but as her calls again went unanswered that evening and another restless night passed without the break of dawn holding the promise of distraction, she began to rethink following his orders.

She chose instead to clean her entire apartment to pass the time, which explained how she found herself elbow deep in her near-empty fridge when someone knocked on her door early Friday evening.

"Coming," she called out, readjusting the scarf tied around her head.

Whether it was because her mind was still running a mile a minute or because of all the cleaning fumes she had inhaled, she didn't think to check the peephole, her eyes immediately growing wide the moment she opened the door to reveal a suit-clad Dean.

"Hey, babe," he smirked, looking her over. "A little underdressed, don't you think?"

Olivia glanced down at her t-shirt and leggings, her eyebrows furrowing as she looked back up at Dean.

"What are you talking about? Why are you here?"

"Oh come on, Liv, I thought you'd be happy to see me." He tried to walk inside and she quickly stepped in front of him. "I figured you needed some space, but we haven't really spoken since I left. Didn't you miss me?"

As he reached for her hand, she crossed her arms and sighed, "Dean, we need to talk."

She hadn't intended to do this yet, at least not before warning Fitz, but, hey, when the universe presented an opportunity, right?

"Well, we can talk on the way to the party."

"What?" She narrowed her eyes in confusion.

"Fairman's retirement party? I had Lucy email you and send a dress to your office this morning."

He tried to step inside again and she straightened her spine, staring him down. "I stayed home today."

"I can see that," he chuckled. "Well, you can still just throw something on. I never liked that son of a bitch, so we won't stay too long anyways."

"Look, Dean –"

"It's fine, I can wait. I'll just be out in front with my driver. Mom might be a little mad but –"

Her ears instantly perked up. "What? Your mom's in the car?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I know you two don't have the best relationship, but she's good friends with Fairman's wife and asked if she could ride over with us."

Her breath caught.

 _That woman truly was something else_.

Carefully, she looked Dean over, searching for signs that his mother had relayed any part of their conversation. Although he seemed completely clueless, she could sense that Diane was sending her a clear message; she was in full Mama Bear mode, purposefully inserting herself in their lives to make sure Olivia had heeded her warning.

Olivia knew the woman was trying to hold her close to the flame, to let her know that her back was against the wall, and probably doing the same to Fitz in Dean's absence. Who knew what kind of words were being exchanged in that car while they waited?

The thought suddenly made her furious.

She was a grown woman and refused to let her love life morph into some pathetic, nightmarish reenactment of _The Young and the Restless_. She was going to put an end to things once and for all, but to do so, she suddenly realized, she'd have to play Diane's games just a little bit longer.

"Give me fifteen minutes."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, she emerged from her building donning a dress pulled out from the back of her closet, her face still nearly bare aside from a few swipes of mascara and lip gloss and her hair freshly released from its wrap, falling just below her shoulders.

Her heart leapt at the sight of the black Lincoln, and, for a moment, she forgot the current circumstances she found herself in. She was tempted to walk to the passenger door and smile at him through the window like she had done the week before, to relax into the seat and just enjoy the instant relief of being in his presence once again, but she couldn't.

Instead, she watched with bated breath as he slid out of the car and hurried to open the back door for her. She was willing to bet money Diane was scrutinizing their every move from the backseat, and, still, she couldn't help but pause before getting inside. It seemed he was trying as hard to avoid her gaze as she probably should have to evade his, and she bit her lip to stop herself from calling out to him.

His grip on the door handle was noticeably tight, the veins in his hand starting to bulge the longer he held it, and she realized he was upset.

"Ms. Pope," he greeted curtly with a nod, his voice harsh.

 _Oh._

He was upset with _her_.

 _Shit._

Her stomach dropped at the realization. She was so set on simply trying to speak to him before Diane had the chance to go nuclear that she hadn't truly considered just how it would look if she agreed to go as Dean's date.

"Babe, everything ok?"

As if confirming her fears, his jaw visibly tightened as Dean called out to her.

"Yeah," she cleared her throat, "just thought I forgot something."

She finally slid into the seat, watching from the corner of her eye as Fitz got back into the driver's seat.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Olivia," Diane quipped with a tight smile.

She nodded at the woman and held her tongue, not trusting herself to not say what was really on her mind.

"Well," Dean interjected, clasping his hands together, "let's get going. The sooner we get there, the sooner I can get wasted on someone else's dime."

* * *

She had been going through the motions for nearly an hour and a half, sticking by Dean's side while they exchanged initial pleasantries, then gratefully wandering among familiar faces while he took up a seemingly permanent seat at the bar with some of his buddies. The act grew more exhausting by the minute, and she couldn't help but wonder how she could have possibly entertained the idea of committing to a lifetime of it. She could sense her faux interest in her latest conversation waning and eyed the venue's entrance, huffing quietly when she noticed Diane standing only a few feet away.

Desperately needing to regroup and come up with a way to evade Diane's surveillance in order to speak to Fitz privately, Olivia excused herself and made her way to the restrooms in the rented-out restaurant's back hallway. She knocked on the door to the single-stall room, reaching to open it once there was no answer when the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood up. Quickly, her eyes darted to her left, and she saw Fitz through the glass of the restaurant's back door. He pushed off from the brick wall he had been leaning against and watched her.

She gestured subtly toward the restroom and he nodded, her heart already starting to race at the thought of being alone with him again. She quickly entered, and less than thirty seconds later, there was a knock. She took a step back as he slid inside and watched him immediately lock the door.

She was caught off guard a moment later, when he approached her in two short strides, held her face between his hands and pressed his lips to hers. They both sighed into the kiss, the relief of their reconnection stronger than either was prepared for.

"Missed you…" she couldn't help but whisper between passes of their lips, resting a hand against the back of his neck and pulling him closer.

One of his hands moved to the small of her back while the other gripped her waist, pressing her lower half into his.

She nearly wrapped her legs around him, nearly started to beg him to take her right then and there, but the faint sounds of someone sloppily singing along to Madonna brought her back to the present moment, and she remembered where they were.

"Fitz," she breathed out, indulging in a last, chaste kiss before pulling back. "We can't, we shouldn't…"

"I know." His breaths were short, and he rested his forehead against hers. "I know, Liv, I'm sorry. I got carried away."

"I think we both did," she laughed, swiping at the lip gloss that had transferred onto his lips.

They remained quiet for a long while, simply holding each other when he spoke quietly, "I missed you, too."

His grip on her waist tightened slightly, and she ran her hands over his arms.

"I thought you were mad," she admitted a moment later, the haze starting to clear from her mind. "He and I, we're not...we're going to be done. I meant what I said –"

"Liv," he quietly interrupted, "I know, trust me." He started to caress her cheek with his thumb. "I was upset when you first came down, I thought...I figured you changed your mind about us, but then," he leaned back, chuckling, "I watched you cringe every time he or his mother spoke the entire way over here. Call me hopeful, but that seemed like a sign."

She grinned for a moment, then frowned, taking a step back and moving out of his arms entirely.

"That's actually what I need to talk to you about."

His face fell instantly.

"No, no, you were right, about me cringing," she tried to reassure him, offering a slightly amused smile. "It's just, his mother, she knows...about us."

His eyebrows rose and he ran a hand through his hair. "What? Are you sure?"

Olivia nodded. "She and I had a...conversation. She was at Barneys that day, and she heard about the dinner party from Lillian, turns out they're friends. She gave me an ultimatum, we stop seeing each other or she goes nuclear."

Fitz shook his head in disbelief, "Well that explains why she was silently glaring at me the entire time we were waiting for you." His brow furrowing, he continued, "We can spin that, right? Like what you do at work. We really were just friends, anyone else at that dinner party would say the same –"

"And that's great for handling the public." She smiled acknowledgingly, touched that he had actually been listening to her all those times she spoke about work. With a sigh, she continued, "But the only person we really need to worry about is Dean, and Diane knows the second she tells him you did more than just give me rides, he's going to..."

"He's going to fire me," he finished for her.

She nodded and looked down at her hands, waiting for the moment she had been dreading. When he remained silent, she dejectedly began, "Look, I know what you said the other night. I don't want you to lose your job anymore than you do, and this, whatever this might've been, isn't worth that, so I completely understand –"

"Let him fire me."

"What?" Her head snapped up quickly, her eyes wide.

"I said," he was suddenly in her space again, cupping her cheeks with his hands. "Let him fire me," he repeated quietly, slowly starting to smile. "I know what I said the other night, but I also meant it when I said I want you, Liv. I want us, and for what I think is the first time in my life, I'm ready to fight for what I want."

His words instantly made her heart swell.

"Are you sure?" She had never experienced anything like this in her life, and she needed to be positive he was in this with her before she let herself fall. Abby's words again rang in her ear, she was scared out of her mind, but she was willing to try if he was.

"I'm sure, Liv." He dropped his gaze for a moment, as if trying to collect his thoughts. "I've spent the past week thinking about everything that could go wrong, all the reasons why we wouldn't work, but nothing stuck. I just kept coming back to...this feels right." His eyes met hers again. "This feels _right_ , Liv, and I don't want to let go of that."

She sucked in a breath. It was as though he was speaking to her soul, saying everything she hadn't even realized she needed to hear.

"I don't want to let go either," she responded softly after a minute.

"Ok." An affectionate smile pulled at the corners of his lips. "So, we're in this together?"

She nodded. "We're in this together."

* * *

Several kisses and a few minutes later, Olivia readjusted Fitz's shirt and blazer as he looked on adoringly, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear.

"So, are we still on for tomorrow?" Fitz grinned, pecking her forehead in gratitude as she finally took a step back.

"Maybe instead of running we can get you a new phone." She looked at him with raised eyebrows. "You're a very hard person to get in contact with at the moment."

He chuckled, nodding as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, didn't you hear? I'm about to be unemployed, so a new phone isn't really in the budget."

Though he was joking, she frowned slightly. He caught it before she could recover and reached out for her hand.

"Hey," he grazed the smooth skin on the back of her hand with his thumb, "don't worry, ok? I just paid rent, and I have enough to cover me for the next month. I can also help out at the shop with Charlie until I find something a little more permanent."

She nodded, her focus still on playing with his hand in hers.

"Liv?"

"You can't ask me not to worry." She finally looked up. "My mom used to say if worrying were an olympic sport, I'd win gold every time," she laughed, hoping to lighten the mood. "I worry, and I fix, that's just...that's what I do."

Fitz was still for a moment, then nodded, leaning down to kiss her soundly. "Then, I'll do my best to not give you anything to worry about," he whispered against her lips.

She rested a hand on his cheek and guided him into another kiss, before finally pulling away.

"Ok, we need to go, before someone comes back here and actually needs the bathroom."

"Good point."

They both looked themselves over in the mirror once more, before silently deciding that she would go first.

She spared one last smile in his direction. "See you on the flipside?"

He grinned in response, watching as she reached for the door handle, and quickly slipped out. She reached the end of the hallway and breathed out a sigh of relief, feeling as though she had released the entire week's stress in a single exhale.

She could just barely make out the sound of the door opening and closing again, immediately feeling his stare on her. She bit down on a smile and collected herself as best she could before rejoining the party.

Only minutes after she had started up conversation again, a heavy arm plopped down on her shoulders.

"Babe!" Dean interrupted her small circle without a care. "Mom's heading out with Mrs. Santiago. They're doing brunch or some shit in the morning, which means," he leaned in close as if whispering, and she frowned at the feel of his breath on her ear, "we get the backseat _and_ the penthouse all to ourselves."

She could feel her cheeks burn as her conversation partners politely excused themselves, obviously not too keen on listening to Dean's not-so-quiet innuendos.

She knew him well enough to know that he wasn't nearly as drunk as everyone would believe. Alcohol of any kind made him loose, and loose meant his usually miniscule filter was all but nonexistent.

"Ok." She pulled his arm from around her, grabbing his forearm to guide him outside. "Let's get you home."

Dean followed happily, only stopping to wish one of his friends across the room a loud farewell. Fortunately, they only had to wait on the curb a minute before Fitz pulled the car around, and Dean flopped unceremoniously onto the backseat.

Olivia considered for a moment sitting in the passenger seat, and, by the way Fitz was glancing between it and her, she could tell he was thinking the same. But before she could make a decision, Dean reached out for her arm.

"Babe, come on. I missed you tonight. We were barely together." Just like clockwork, in the absence of a public audience, his loud and obnoxious mannerisms gave way to those of a pouty child. Rolling her eyes, she slid into the seat beside him. It was only a short car ride, and she figured it'd do far more harm than good to get him suspicious and riled up before his buzz had worn off.

Or so she thought.

The car jerked once every few blocks as Fitz stomped on the breaks, his attention seeming to be primarily on the rearview mirror rather than the busy road in front of him. Olivia tried to send him reassuring smiles every so often, dodging Dean's advances until a fourth kiss landed on her cheek and he appeared to get the message.

"Home sweet home," he grinned happily when they pulled in front of the building that housed his parents' penthouse. "Come on, babe," he reached for her hand and she pulled back.

"I'm not going up with you, Dean."

"What?" He spat.

She realized she no longer had a reason to drag it out any longer; this was finally her chance.

"Look, can we just talk?" She went to open the door, but realized it was still locked. She glanced at Fitz expectantly, but instead he only looked back, his face colored with concern. She nodded, subtly letting him know she had this, and he finally unlocked the doors with a sigh.

She got out of the car, and Dean slowly followed, looking somewhere between confused and irritated.

"Liv, what's this about? Just come up with me." He didn't wait for an answer, already starting to make his way to the building's entrance.

In a moment of pure exasperation, she could only think to call out behind him, "I'm done, Dean."

He stopped abruptly and turned on his heels, looking at her as if she had grown two heads.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm done," she repeated with more conviction. "With this, with us. We had something good, but it hasn't been good for a while and we both know that. I'm sorry, but I'm telling you straight out this time, I'm done."

"Liv," he was back in front of her in seconds, "babe, you don't mean that."

"See that, right there. Stop telling me what I do or don't mean. I'm done, Dean. I said it, and I meant it. I really don't want to make a scene but –"

He had been staring at her incredulously, when he suddenly began to laugh.

"You're dumping me, on a Friday night in the middle of Manhattan and you don't want to make a _scene_? Give me a fucking break, Liv!"

"Dean –"

"What is it? Is it another guy? Is that why you haven't been screwing me? Because all that job crap you've been spouting for months is –"

"Goodbye, Dean."

"Don't you dare walk the fuck away from me –"

It seemed to happen within the span of a millisecond. She had turned back towards the car, his hand grabbed her arm, hard, and then, he was on the ground, holding the side of his face and groaning in pain.

"Touch her again you son of a bitch and see what happens."

She didn't know how Fitz had gotten beside her so quickly, but she watched with wide eyes as he stood over Dean, nostrils flaring and face red.

By now, they had started to draw a small crowd, and she didn't know what to do but watch in shock. Luckily, Fitz went into action moments later, placing a hand on her lower back to guide her back to the car.

She was almost inside when Dean's laugh sounded once more from the distance.

"The driver? Have you been screwing my fucking driver?"

Fitz didn't miss a beat, continuing to usher Olivia inside the car and help her with her seatbelt. He was just about to close the door when Dean continued his tirade from the ground, "I knew I should've cheated on you with Lucy when I had the chance."

She didn't have time to process what he had said before he persisted.

"Hey, Grant? Your ass is fired, and that car is company property. No bitches or side dicks allowed."

She could see the second Fitz intended to turn around and deliver another punch, and she quickly reached out for his arm to stop him.

"Fitz, _no_."

His fiery gaze met hers, and he breathed in deeply.

"Let it go. He's not worth it," she urged softly, holding her breath as she released him.

He glanced back at Dean, then at her, before immediately making his way to the driver's seat. They ignored Dean's continued shouts as he pulled into traffic, driving off in the direction of her apartment.

Five minutes passed, the silence between them deafening, before Fitz came to a red light and turned to her.

"So," he glanced down at his hand, flexing his bruised knuckles, "I think we got the worst of it out of the way."

She was quiet for a moment, and then, they both laughed, hard.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I'm back! I'm sorry this update took so long. I was finishing out the semester, and then I had the absolute worst writer's block for weeks. I just wanted to thank everyone who has reviewed and messaged me about this story, because it genuinely makes my day and inspires me to keep writing even when I feel like I can't. I have the next few chapters outlined, so I'm hoping to update more regularly during the summer. I hope you enjoy and please, as always, let me know what you think!**

* * *

He knew he was early. He didn't need his watch to tell him, and yet he checked it. Again.

He had managed to keep himself preoccupied that morning, waking early to make a trip to the store for his new phone before contacting Charlie. If his termination hadn't been obvious after he had left his former boss with a bruised face in front of his apartment building, it certainly was later that night, when, after dropping Olivia off, he returned the car to the company lot and was met by a security guard who immediately confiscated his company ID.

He had kept the details vague, only informing his friend that he was suddenly out of a job and wondering if he could pick up a few shifts at the shop. Fortunately – at least for him – one of Charlie's mechanics was having surgery and going to be out for at least the next three weeks.

By the time the details of his temporary employment were sorted out, it was nearly one. Unfortunately, that left him still with two hours to spare before he and Liv were set to meet at Central Park. He had managed to wait in his apartment until two before deciding to hop on the next bus.

He simply couldn't help himself. This was what he had wanted so desperately for the past few weeks, what he had been so sure would never actually happen: the chance to actually give _them_ a try.

He felt...light. Like, at any moment, the soles of his feet could push off of the sidewalk and send him soaring above the pavement. That was the only way to describe it. He had never been one for cliches, but it occurred to him then that this must have been what people meant when they said they were on cloud nine.

Just a few weeks ago, he never could have imagined himself here, between jobs again and yet the happiest he had been in years. He may not have been entirely sure of his every next move, but for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel aimless. He had a sense of purpose.

"Excuse me, sir, are you lost?"

He had _her_.

Trying to contain his smile long enough to play along, he turned in the direction of Olivia's voice.

"You know, I was looking for a beautiful woman, and I think you're just the person to help."

She scrunched up her nose adorably, taking a step closer to him.

"That was corny."

Reaching for her, he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"In a cute kind of way?"

"More like in a pervy old man kind of way."

He dropped his jaw in faux offense as she stuck out her tongue.

"Kidding," she grinned, "c'mere."

Resting a hand on his cheek, she guided his face down until his lips were on hers.

"Mmm," he hummed against her lips, "you taste like apples."

"I had one right before I left."

He leaned in to kiss her again, remaining only centimeters from her face when he pulled back.

"You're early."

She giggled, nodding. "I am, and you're earlier than me. Any more observations?"

"No," he shook his head with a smirk, "I think that just about covers everything."

They stayed there for a long moment, silently sharing matching grins that seemed to say what they didn't need to. They had both been looking forward to this moment, too eager to see one another after last night to actually wait until their designated meeting time of three.

Eventually, grasping both her hands, he took a step back to take her in fully. Her snow white athletic jacket made her skin glow and her leggings hugged her perfectly. Glancing down at his own worn t-shirt and sweats, he couldn't help but somehow feel underdressed.

Chuckling, he gave her hands a tug, prompting her to step forward. She blinked and refixed her gaze on his face, and he realized she had been looking him over, too.

"What's so funny?"

He shook his head, raising his brows in question. "How is it that you look so good just to go running?"

"Funny," she toyed with the bottom of his shirt, "I was just thinking the same thing about you."

She grinned up at him and again, they put the world on pause, staying in that moment for a short while. It was so nice to be able do this, to flirt unapologetically and out in the open, to allow themselves to just be _them._

"Ok," she eventually stepped back, bending her knee and grabbing her ankle to stretch. "This path's not too hard, I normally go around two or three times. Think you can keep up with me?"

Scoffing, he made a show of settling into a full-on lunge.

"Try me."

* * *

He stumbled to a stop a foot away from her, bending over and resting his hands on his knees as he closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath.

When he opened his eyes, her legs came into his line of vision.

"You ok?" Her question was laced with equal parts teasing and worry.

He nodded, taking a few more seconds to breathe in deeply. "I'm good….just...where the hell did that come from?"

She laughed as he finally stood to his full height.

"I'm competitive, I couldn't let you win."

They had been on the final stretch of their run when he suggested that they race. He had assumed it'd be harmless fun, maybe he'd throw her over his shoulder and she'd accuse him of cheating for the rest of the week. But he never even had so much as a chance. Liv had taken off at top speed, not once slowing down until she stood at the path's end, hands on her hips, watching on in victory as he finished.

"This is why I hate running," he groaned, stretching his legs.

"And yet you're here."

"Because I love y–hanging out with you." He cleared his throat, his face burning at the near slip-up.

Now where the hell had _that_ come from?!

They weren't there yet, they couldn't be there yet. The last person he had told he loved was his ex-wife, and the last person whom he had told and truly meant it was his mother. Whatever this was between him and Olivia – regardless of how natural and amazing it seemed – was still entirely too fresh for him to be at that place.

 _Wasn't it?_

Not seeming to notice, Olivia followed his lead, stretching her own legs then questioning with a hopeful smile, "Enough to take the subway while you're all sweaty?"

"That depends on where we're going," he lied. He would go anywhere she wanted to and they both knew it.

"Antonio's?"

"Hmm," he pretended to consider it, then almost immediately conceded, "I like the way you think."

"Good." She took a step forward, leaning in for a quick kiss. "I like that you like the way I think."

Grinning, he held her face between his hands and pulled her in for another kiss, mumbling just before their lips met, "Now who's being corny?"

* * *

"So never as in _never_?"

"Well, sometimes," she admitted with a shrug, leaning back into the booth. "Like if I'm going out to Long Island or, you know, anywhere where there's actually parking."

"But other than that –?"

"Nope," she shook her head, "I don't drive on the weekends. I learned my lesson the third time I missed the first half of a movie looking for a spot. I'm guaranteed one at work and I'll pay for one in the garage at my apartment, but no way am I walking ten extra blocks or spending $35 to park in a garage for two hours just to see Leo DiCaprio."

He chuckled, leaning over the table to steal a piece of calamari from her plate.

"Hey!"

"So you're a Leo DiCaprio fan?"

"Abby is," she mimicked his movements, leaning forward and jamming her fork into his pasta, "I just tag along."

"I have to meet Abby one of these days – hey!" He swatted her fork with his own as she reached for his food a second time.

"What?" She laughed, managing to get another forkful despite his efforts. "I let you take some of mine."

"I took _one_ piece."

"Your point?" She challenged, raising an eyebrow and staring at him defiantly as she closed her mouth around her fork.

With a huff, he reached for her calamari and she quickly tried to block her plate.

"Fitz, no stop," she laughed.

"Come on, Liv, it's only fair."

Standing slightly to get a better angle, he managed to grab a few more pieces.

"Ok, that's enough...stop touching my food!"

"You're not even eating it anyway –"

"I was going to –"

"Alright, how are you two doing?"

They both froze, turning slowly like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Sofia, the same waitress from their last visit, looked them over in amusement.

Smirking, she said simply, "I'll be right back," and turned to make her way back to the kitchen.

Fitz dropped the food back on to Olivia's plate and quickly sat back down as she eyed it with disdain.

"Can you pass me a napkin?"

She looked up at his request, narrowing her eyes in a way that just barely masked her amusement with faux annoyance. Obviously fighting off a smile, she pushed the small stack of napkins resting by her over to him. While he was wiping the grease from his fingers, Sofia emerged from the kitchen, two small plates in hand.

"Ok," she grinned, "this should help." She set the plates on the table then glanced back and forth between the two of them fondly. "You two remind me so much of me and my Dino."

They both smiled up at her, but before any of them could say anything more, the hostess sat a family in the booth two down from theirs. Glancing at them, Sofia reached for her notepad.

"You just let me know if you need anything else, ok?" When they nodded, she began walking away, then suddenly stopped mid-step and turned back to them. "I can see there's a lot of love between you two," she spoke endearingly, "make sure you protect that."

And with that, she was gone.

His eyes went wide.

There was that word again. _Love_.

He dared to glance at Olivia and saw that she looked just as surprised as he felt, her gaze still on the spot Sofia had just left.

Swallowing hard, he picked up one of the plates she had brought over and scraped some of his food onto it. After a moment, Olivia did the same, and they exchanged the plates with shy smiles.

They sat in silence for a long while and then, suddenly, without thinking, Fitz laid his arm on the table, palms up, inviting Olivia to meet him halfway. She did immediately, sliding her hand into his. He gave her hand a tight squeeze, and her smile broadened.

The sight made his heart swell, and, in that moment, he couldn't help but think that maybe Sofia really was onto something.

Although he wasn't entirely ready to confront it, the thought lingered in the back of his mind as he cleared his throat and joked, "You think if we pretend we're engaged again, we'll get a free dessert?"

She laughed, glancing in the direction Sofia had walked off. "I'm in as long as we get tiramisu."

* * *

"Greek and Roman Studies? Really?"

"You sound surprised."

"Because I am," he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her from behind as the elevator doors closed.

"I had taken Latin all throughout high school and liked it. I assumed I'd enjoy being a Classics major. I thought I'd end up working in a museum and everything."

Laughing again, he placed his chin on her shoulder. "I definitely never would've guessed that was your original major. I don't think I can top that."

"Come on, try," she turned, pecking his cheek. "What's one thing I'd never guess about you?"

They had been at this for the last half-hour. After deciding to not take advantage of their sweet waitress, they settled on stopping for ice cream for dessert, their easy conversation at some point morphing into a modified version of twenty questions on the way back to her apartment. So far, they had discussed everything from favorite colors and places where they always wanted to travel (he had made a mental note to one day look up vacation spots in Zanzibar), to desired superpowers and first kisses.

And he loved every second of it.

He loved getting to know more about her, even the most mundane facts. Each new thing he learned seemed to fill in a space in his heart he had never realized had always been left open for her.

"I was once in a band," he offered absentmindedly, more focused on the trail of kisses he started to leave down her neck.

"Really?" She tilted her head, allowing him more access and sighing softly.

"Yup, freshman year of high school." He paused his movements, moving to speak into her ear, "We were called 'The Flaming Roaches'," his voice oozed with playful seduction.

She let out a loud laugh, placing her hands over his arms, still snaked around her abdomen. "That is an _awful_ name."

"What can I say?" He laughed along with her. "We were fourteen-year-old boys who thought it sounded cool."

"Oh, I'm sure all the girls must've flocked to you and the other...roaches," she burst into another fit of laughter just as the elevator doors opened on her floor.

"Just for that, I shouldn't even get out of this elevator." He followed her out anyways, letting her guide him by the hand as she stepped out of his arms.

"Ok, ok, I'm done. Promise." She glanced back at him, biting down on her lip to contain the last of her giggles.

"I should've kept that to myself."

"Probably should have." She turned around and leaned against her door.

He placed his hands on both sides of her, boxing her in. "You weren't supposed to agree."

"Sorry," she grinned, obviously not meaning in it the slightest.

"I'm sure you are."

A beat passed and then, without warning, the air between them changed. His eyes roamed her face, settling at last on her lips, and he could practically see her breath catch. Slowly, he leaned down until his forehead rested against hers.

Olivia closed her eyes and sighed, placing a hand on his cheek.

"I want to invite you inside," she paused, and he held his breath, fighting against every instinct to capture her mouth with his. "...but I don't want to rush this."

When she opened her eyes again, she looked so torn that it made his heart clench.

"Hey, hey, look at me," he waited until her gaze was unquestionably fixed on his again. "I get it, I do." And he _did_. He knew then that she could sense what he had earlier. The connection between them was already so deep-seated, so unnervingly intense that it seemed combustible. Strike a match, and they were both liable to go up in flames.

"We don't have to rush," he continued in reassurance, "we can go at whatever pace _you_ want to, ok?"

She nodded. "Ok."

Neither made a move to separate until he eventually started to take a step back.

"So I'll see you –"

She cut him off with a kiss, gripping the nape of his neck and pulling him in. He responded just as fervently, his hands on her waist once more as he pressed her into the door.

Far before he was ready, she separated her mouth from his, letting him chase her for a few chaste kisses before placing her hands on either side of his face and pulling him back. She took a moment to catch her breath, eventually looking up at him with a sheepish smile.

"You think you'll be free for lunch on Monday?"

He nodded, still too stunned to do much of anything else.

"Ok, I'll see you Monday." She kissed him quickly a final time and, in the blink of an eye, slipped out her keys and unlocked her door, turning back towards him from inside the doorway. "Thank you for everything today, Fitz," her gaze softened, "I had a really great time with you."

"Me too," he reached for her hand, giving it a final affectionate squeeze and stepping back. Once on the elevator, he called out before the doors could close, "Call you tonight?"

She nodded from the doorway. "Please do."

* * *

 _ **Two Weeks Later**_

"Hey, Fitz, can you come in here when you're done?"

"Yeah, just give me a second." Closing the hood of the car he was working on, Fitz wiped his hands with a towel and tossed it back onto a workbench. He then made his way to Charlie's office, pausing at the door when he saw someone sitting across from his friend's desk.

"Here he is," Charlie announced when he caught his eye, his visitor turning in her seat towards the door. "Fitz, meet Valerie Garcia, she's the principal at the school Quinn teaches at."

"Nice to meet you," he smiled politely and almost offered his hand but, then, thinking better of it, nodded in greeting instead.

She returned his nod with a smile of her own, "You as well, Fitz, Charlie was just telling me all about you."

When she swiveled back around to Charlie, he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Charlie waited until she returned her attention to him before winking in reassurance.

"Val came in for an oil change earlier, and we just so happened to start talking about how the school's short on staff for its after-school program. They're looking for someone who has experience with kids and can drive the van for their trips to the rec center. I mentioned that you used to teach _and_ chauffeur and were only here temporarily, and she wanted to talk to you herself."

His eyebrows rose in surprise and he subconsciously straightened his spine in an attempt to appear professional.

"Truth be told, Fitz, the way Charlie's talked you up, you sound like the perfect candidate," Valerie stood, making her way over to him. "Now, I'll be honest with you, the pay isn't great, but you'd technically be doing the work of a few positions that need to be filled as soon as possible, so I'm sure we can work out a reasonable salary."

Still in mild shock, he nodded. "I'd be more than happy to negotiate."

"Great." she clasped her hands together. "Now, I'll still need your resume on file, and we'll have to conduct an interview for formalities, but I don't see that as being too much of a problem. Do you think you could stop by the school Monday morning? Say 10:30?"

"Monday at 10:30 works great," he quickly agreed.

"Perfect," she beamed, adjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder. "I look forward to it." She redirected her attention back to Charlie. "Charlie, thank you again for squeezing me in this morning. And I already told Quinn, but I expect to see you both at game night next Friday. Sharon's already started making new teams since Eric and Leslie can't find a babysitter."

"We'll be there," he promised with a crooked grin. "I look forward to beating Darnell's ass in charades."

"He's on my team, so we'll see about that," she retorted on her way out.

"Yeah, yeah. See you, Val," he called after her. Reclining in his seat, he placed his hands behind his head and looked at Fitz. "She's good people, isn't she?"

Fitz blinked, then looked back and forth between the door and his friend.

" _What_ just happened?"

" _I_ just got you a job," Charlie smirked, "you're welcome."

"But - what...how?"

He had applied to countless positions over the last two weeks and had yet to hear back from one. And although he hadn't heard anything from his former employer, he didn't doubt that Dean Shaw had a hand in it. The Monday after what he now thought of as the "incident," Marcus had called, asking why their boss had shown up to work with a severely bruised cheek and an even more bruised ego. He had apparently been on a warpath, taking it out especially on Marcus, who had been reassigned Fitz's former duties for the time being. Not too keen on sharing the details, Fitz only told him that he would no longer be working for Red Giant Jets and agreed when Marcus suggested that they do lunch soon.

He hadn't been too vocal about his worries, but they were starting to eat away at him. He knew Charlie's regular mechanic was going to come back soon, and, while his friend was more than willing to keep him on call, he needed something much more stable.

"Quinn mentioned that they needed staff a few days ago. I was gonna mention it to you, but then Val called about needing to come in and I figured I'd just work my charm on your behalf." He picked up a pen off his desk and started twirling it with his fingers. "She and Quinn have been good friends for years, we have regular dinners with her and her wife and everything. I knew I just had to talk you up enough and the job would be yours." He stopped his movements, his grin widening. "And I was right. You're welcome."

"Shit, Charlie, thank you." He plopped into the seat Valerie had previously taken up. "I mean that, really. I just - _thank you_."

"Ah, don't mention it." Charlie nonchalantly reached into the cup of lollipops on his desk, unwrapping one as he continued, "You've really helped me out these last two weeks, and I knew you were looking. I owed you one."

He shook his head as Charlie titled the cup towards him, offering a lollipop. "Well, if you need anything ever, just let me know."

"Actually, there is one thing." He shoved the lollipop into his mouth, jamming it into his cheek. "Quinn wants to meet your girlfriend."

"Really?"

"Yup." He removed the candy with a pop. "Apparently she saw you talking to her on the phone when she visited the other day and wanted to know who had you all smiley and starry-eyed."

" _Starry-eyed_?"

"Her words, not mine," he held up his hands. "Anyways, I told her about Liv and she said to invite you over for dinner. I honestly think she just wants to show off the kitchen renovations to more people, but whatever makes her happy," he shrugged.

Fitz grinned. "Alright, I just have to talk to Liv, but I think you can count us in."

The bell above the door dinged, signaling a customer's entrance, and they both stood, starting to make their way out of Charlie's office.

"I bet that's the guy with the Honda Pilot, he's been calling every half-hour. You finish it yet?"

"Just about."

* * *

" _Hello?_ "

"Hey, beautiful."

" _Hey! How was work?"_

"Eventful," he was purposefully vague, knowing it would pique her interest.

" _Oh? What happened?_ "

"How's your girls weekend going?"

Girls weekend – it was something he learned she and Abby had been doing once a month for the past two years. More often than not, she shared, they ended up spending the weekend upstate, relaxing at the home Abby's father left her in his will.

" _Great, we went wine tasting today. I got a bottle of Merlot that'll bring tears to your eyes."_

"I can't wait to try it. Maybe we can crack it open when we celebrate."

" _Celebrate what? What happened at work?"_

He settled onto his couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

"Well, for starters, I won't be working with Charlie too much longer."

" _What? Did his usual mechanic come back early? Is he going to at least let you finish out next week while you look for something else?"_

"I don't need to," he hinted, a smirk tugging at his lips.

" _Huh? Why not?_ "

He remained silent.

" _Fitz!"_

"I found a job," he laughed, unable to hold it in any longer.

" _What? Fitz, that's great! When did you –?"_

"It's technically not official. I have an interview on Monday, but she said that shouldn't be too much of a problem. It's basically as good as mine. I'll tell you all about when I take you out for dinner Monday night?"

" _I'd love that. But I'd also love for you to tell me about it now_ –"

" _Alright, Liv, I gave you your five minutes. It's girls weekend, tell loverboy bye_ ," another voice joined in from the distance.

"I think that's your cue, Liv," he chuckled, already anticipating her protest.

" _Abby, I just need two more minutes, I promise_. _Fitz, tell me about –"_

He heard shuffling and then Liv's voice was replaced with her friend's.

" _Hey, Fitz."_

"Hey, Abby," he greeted in amusement. The two had met just the week before when Liv took him to her bakery, and, after her initial warnings of the hellfire she'd reign down on him if he hurt her best friend, they had hit it off easily.

" _We have a dinner reservation, so Liv's gonna have to call you back."_

"Ok –" the call ended before he could even get it out his mouth.

Moments later, he received a text that he knew must've come from Olivia, herself. It read simply,

 _ **I hope you know this conversation isn't over.**_

He laughed, relaxing further into the couch as he sent back: _**I didn't think it was**_

Reaching for the glass of scotch he had poured himself, he took a sip and rested his head against the back of the couch. He was still in slight disbelief over how the day had played out – over how the last two weeks had played out, really.

For once, it seemed things were finally starting to look up.

* * *

"These are new?"

"Yup, from last night. Apparently they went out to celebrate him getting a new job." Tom Larsen rolled his eyes at the petulant pout that graced his temporary boss' face at his revelation.

"Who the hell hired him? Leo told me that whisper campaign was going to keep him out of job for at least the next six months."

"I think he got it through a friend. I don't have all the details on that."

"Well, why the hell _not_?"

Not for the first time, Tom found himself having to breathe in deeply and count to ten to stop himself from strangling the poor, whiny excuse of a man that stood before him.

"I'll look into it tomorrow."

"I think you should."

Dean flipped through the photographs again, his frown deepening. There, in plain sight, were his ex and his ex-employee, undeniably _together_ without a care for who saw. There were shots of his arm around her shoulder as they strolled down the sidewalk. Shots of her grinning up at him as if he had hung the moon. Shots of them laughing, of them whispering sweet nothings into one another's ears. Shots of them _kissing_.

He stopped looking, promptly closing the folder and tossing it back to the private investigator he had been in contact with for the last two weeks – a loan from his mother, who shared that she had been using him for years.

"They look...cozy, like this isn't something new," Tom observed, looking over the pictures again himself.

"I can see that," Dean spat.

"I'm saying that, that's a good thing," Tom offered with another roll of his eyes. "It goes with the story you're trying to push. It makes it seem more believable."

"Oh," Dean cleared his throat, "yeah."

As much as he may not have been particularly fond of Tom, he did appreciate that the man had evidently been on his mother's payroll long enough to know how this went. They hired people like Liv, who took a more moral – and legal – approach when it came to handling issues with the company, but it was an entirely different ballgame when it came to personal matters.

And this? This was as personal as it got. It had been an all-out ambush on his heart _and_ his pride. And he wasn't looking simply looking for justice, he was looking for revenge.

"Show me what else you have."

* * *

 **A/N: I know a lot of you have been over Dean for a minute lol, but I promise we're not-so-slowly and surely getting him out of here.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey! I always start these with apologizing for how longs it's been, and this time isn't any different lol. I'm sorry for the wait between updates. I got a really exciting, but also really demanding job opportunity unexpectedly, so my summer ended up being much busier than I expected. With school starting up, I can't say how regular my updates will be, but I do plan on updating! Thank you to everyone who continues to read, share, and review, because your comments really do go such a long way when it comes to helping me want to continue writing this story. I hope the wait was worth it and that you guys let me know what you think!**

* * *

"Liv?"

"Clark," Olivia greeted absentmindedly, not bothering to look up from her work at the head peeking in through the crack in her office door.

Taking the curt acknowledgment as an invitation, her co-worker stepped inside. "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

"Always bad, you know that."

"I do." He slipped into the chair across from her desk. "What's that for? The Simply Sweet campaign?"

"You're stalling, Clark."

"I am." He nodded, adjusting his glasses. "Blake Evans just gave in his two weeks' notice."

She finally glanced up at him, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. "That's supposed to be the bad news?"

"Technically, no. The bad news is that he's taking Smart Sonic with him."

That got her attention. Her eyes widened.

"Tell me you're kidding."

"I wish I could," he huffed, "but I just got out of a meeting with Cy, and he told me it's true."

Dropping her pen onto the stack of papers littering her desk, she sighed and sank back into her seat. "That doesn't make any sense. Has he done _anything_ for their last campaign?"

"Didn't have to. Our contract with them is up next week and turns out he's the VP's nephew." Clark leaned in and pressed his palms against her desk. "Get this, apparently, he's been talking with the director over at North Public Relations for a while. Rumor has it they promised him a position with a salary increase and a promotion within the next year if he could bring them in as a client."

Olivia sighed. "I don't even want to know how you found all that out." Shaking her head, she continued, "What was Cy's reaction? Has he completely lost it yet?"

"I don't think I've ever seen anything like it. I expected him to lose it, especially since we just lost Red Giant Jets, too –"

She knew he didn't mean any harm by the comment, especially given that the company had covered what she knew to be Dean's rash, post-break-up decision to terminate the company's contract with the firm, using the excuse that they simply no longer "needed their services." Still, she couldn't help but feel guilty at the reminder.

"– but, he was eerily calm." Clark leaned back into the seat. "Maybe stoic's the right word?"

She groaned and started to rub at her temples. "A calm Cyrus is the worst kind of Cyrus. This is going to get so ugly."

"I have a bet with Lauren from customer relations that he'll blow up on Ethan by the end of the week."

"I hope he leaves poor Ethan alone," she couldn't help but laugh. "He's been through enough Cyrus tantrums to last him a lifetime."

"That may be true, but better him than me." Clark shrugged unapologetically. "Anyways, Cyrus also mentioned that they'll probably just promote Tasha to fill the spot. They're looking for an assistant, he said you might know somebody?"

She shook her head. "No, sorry."

"Oh, well." He shrugged again. "Moving on. Ready for the good news?"

"Please." She nodded.

"The in-laws cancelled dinner."

She offered only a blank stare, and he chuckled.

"Meaning," he continued, "I can cover that meeting with Edgars for you, so you don't have to stay too late."

"Really?" At his nod, she grinned. "You're a lifesaver, Clark, thank you. Next time you want to leave early to see the girls' recital or take Julie out, I've got you covered."

"Jules will be happy to hear that." He adjusted his glasses again. "And speaking of taking people out, who's the guy that has you leaving when there's actually still daylight outside?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Who said I'm going out with a guy? I only told you I had a dinner to get to."

"My sixth sense," he smirked. "And... I saw you meeting him outside your car Monday night."

She looked away from his interrogative gaze, her face heating instantly at the memory.

After being separated for the weekend while she was upstate for her and Abby's monthly getaway, she had been more than ready to see Fitz again come Monday night. She had spent the entire day waiting to hear from him about his job interview, but by the time late afternoon rolled around, she took his silence as a sign things hadn't gone as well as he assumed they would. She had been making her way to the parking garage, getting ready to call him to suggest that they order takeout and spend the night in, when she found him waiting right beside her car.

He wore a dazzling, bright smile carrying a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a small sign that read "Ms. Pope" in the other. She covered the rest of distance between them in seconds, letting him pull her into a long hug when she was close enough. By the time they moved apart, she was eagerly guiding him to the car so that she could greet him the way she really wanted to.

When she tried to get in the driver's seat, he blocked the door, handing the flowers over to her and holding out his hands for the keys

"Tonight I'm driving," he had said, then reached for the keys in her hand, letting them dangle from his fingers as he grinned in the way that always made her stomach flip. "For old time's sake?"

She couldn't have said no even if she wanted to.

"He seems like a good guy," Clark remarked, his smirk blossoming into a genuine smile. "You're happier these days. Of course, I don't know if that has to do with him, but...you are."

Olivia could only nod and offer a small smile, slightly thrown off by the thought that others — even the residential office gossip — may have been privy to the little bubble of bliss their relationship had left them in the last few weeks.

"And speaking of new relationships. Remember how I told you Jules and I saw Jesse and Sarah practically humping at the Christmas party?"

"Goodbye, Clark." She stifled a laugh, looking back down at the papers on her desk.

"What? You're kicking me out already?"

"Yup."

"But –"

"Give Julie my love."

Mumbling under his breath, Clark stood, and just as he made it to the door, her phone dinged with a text. She glanced at the screen, smiling as she saw a new message from Fitz.

 _ **I picked up the cannoli's from Abby before I met up with Charlie, so just worry about getting your pretty self here later.**_

" _Now_ I see why you're kicking me out."

She jumped, surprised to find Clark looking back at her from the doorway.

"Is that the new boyfriend?"

"Good- _bye,_ Clark."

* * *

Olivia looked down at her phone, checking to make sure she had the right address yet again before finally pulling up Fitz's number.

" _Hey, you,_ " he answered on the first ring.

She smiled at the greeting. "Hey, I just pulled up."

" _I'll be right out_." She could hear the returning smile in his voice, before it suddenly became distant as he called out, " _Hey, Charlie, Liv just pulled up. I'm just gonna go down and get her."_

She took that as her cue to climb out of her car and make her way to the front steps of his friends' duplex.

" _Liv,_ " he returned his attention to her, " _I'll be down in ooone..."_

The door swung open to reveal Fitz, a wide grin covering his face.

"Second," he finished, hanging up and quickly pulling her inside.

She laughed as she all but fell into his embrace. "Someone's excited to see me."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Charlie and Quinn have been a little too into this episode of _Snapped_ we've been watching. I can't tell if they're planning to kill us or if it's some kind of foreplay for them. Either way," he leaned down to peck her lips, "I need some normal."

"Hey, be nice," she hit his shoulder playfully, "they're your friends."

"I'm serious," he chuckled. "I know they have a thing for true crime shows, but I've never seen them like this. I'm honestly a little scared."

"Well, you're the one who decided to come over early."

"Only because I had to pick up my last check from Charlie," he defended. "It just made sense to ride over with him. Trust me," leaning down once more, he nuzzled his nose against hers, "I much rather would've preferred riding over with you."

"I guess I'll have to take your word for it." After trying and failing to keep the grin off her face, she kissed him again.

Her mouth still connected to his, she sighed when his hands moved down her back, sliding lower, lower...

There had been so many moments like this in the past two weeks. Moments when he teased her briefly with his touch, moments when she did the same to him. Moments that made it impossible for her to think of anything other than finally being with him.

"Hey, Fitz, you two get lost?" Charlie suddenly called out from upstairs.

Fitz groaned, lingering in the kiss for a few more seconds then leaning back as he muttered under his breath, "Smartass."

"Come on." She reached for his hand, smirking. "Maybe if we hurry, we'll catch the end of _Snapped_."

The instant they climbed to the second floor of the multi-family home, they were approached by a fresh-faced, gleeful brunette – _Quinn_ – she immediately filled in.

"Olivia! Hi, welcome!" Without hesitation, Quinn pulled her into a hug. "It's so nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you!"

Surprised by the gesture, Olivia let her arms hang awkwardly for a moment before half-embracing her.

"It's so nice to meet you, too."

"Well I see neither of us are needed for introductions," Charlie directed at Fitz, entering from a back room.

"Obviously not." Fitz shook his head, clearly amused.

Taking a step back, Quinn waved a dismissive hand at Charlie. "You took too long."

"I had to see where they found the husband's body."

Quinn's entire face brightened. "Was it under the shed?" At his nod, she pumped her fist in victory. "I knew it had to be there."

"See what I mean," Fitz whispered into Olivia's ear.

She rolled her eyes, pushing his face away.

"What're you saying over there, boss?" Charlie narrowed his eyes.

"Nothing that concerns you."

Charlie eyed him for a second more then turned to Liv, greeting her with his crooked grin. "Hey, Liv."

"Hey, Charlie."

The two had become friendly in the past few weeks, always striking up a conversation whenever she visited the shop to go out to lunch with Fitz.

"Don't worry, if we kick this guy out before dinner's over," he gestured with his thumb in Fitz's direction, "you're more than welcome to stay."

"Now hold on a second." Fitz snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her close. "She's my ride. If I go, we both go."

"I'm sure you can find some other way to get home." Quinn chimed in as she started walking in the direction of the kitchen. "Olivia, Fitz told me you love wine. We don't have a big selection, but I'd love to get your opinion on what would go well with this fish."

She tried to follow behind Quinn, but Fitz tightened his grip, keeping her at his side as he tsked. "You've been here for two minutes and you're already stealing my friends."

"Not stealing, bonding," she corrected just before Charlie cut in.

"No, it's ok, Liv, we can just give it to him straight." He shot Fitz an insincere, sympathetic smile. "Quinn wanted to let you down easy, but you know me," he shrugged, "better to just rip the bandaid off."

Just as he finished, Quinn returned, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Don't lie, Charlie, I had no intentions of letting him down easy. It's what he gets for stealing all my students."

"Hey," Fitz held up his hands in defense, "it's not my fault they like me."

She rolled her eyes and turned to Olivia. "He's been there for a week and all I hear is Mr. Grant this, Mr. Grant that. There are kids who aren't even in the program asking to stay after just to go."

Olivia couldn't hold back her proud grin. He had told her his first week was going well, and from the stories he shared about his time with the kids, she wasn't surprised they had taken to him so quickly.

"Aw is someone jealous?" Fitz taunted.

Again, Quinn rolled her eyes and, with a scoff, suddenly reached for Olivia's arm, tugging her out of Fitz's embrace. "Come on, Olivia."

"I'll take that as a yes."

Leading Olivia to the kitchen, Quinn spared a glance in his direction only to stick out her tongue.

" _Anyways,_ the website I got this recipe from said to pair it with a dry Pinot Gris…"

* * *

"So after they crashed the cars, they _bolted_ –"

"The sons of bitches."

"– then out of nowhere comes Mr. Cooper. He threatened to fire _us_ on the spot if we didn't make it through all our runs the next day, like we were the ones racing in the parking lot."

Charlie scoffed, mumbling with a mouthful of cannoli, "The old man didn't even really care about the damages. He just didn't wanna lose any business."

"He told us we could use a sedan chair for all he cared but all our clients had to be picked up on time." Finished with his own piece, Fitz turned towards Olivia's plate, swiping the half-eaten treat before she could stop him.

"So, Fitzy here took the initiative and decided we would fix the cars ourselves."

"It took all night, but we did it."

"And that's why I call him boss – _shit!_ "

They all glanced down to see Charlie's hand hovering over Quinn's plate...and Quinn's fork digging into his hand.

"Don't even think about it," Quinn warned.

Charlie grinned, looking her once over. "Don't worry. There're a few other things on my mind right now."

A fierce blush blossomed across Quinn's cheeks, and she smiled sheepishly, all the while the fork continued to prick his skin.

Slightly wide-eyed, Olivia exchanged a glance with Fitz, stifling a laugh at the way his face read simply: _see what I mean?_

At long last, Quinn cleared her throat and removed the fork, allowing Charlie to lean back into his seat with his hands behind his head.

"Anyways…" he spared a last suggestive glance at Quinn, "I always think of that as the day we became friends. It was one of the only times someone's helped me save my own ass."

"Well, let's be clear," Fitz jumped in, "I never cared about saving your ass, I cared about saving mine."

This time, Olivia and Quinn shared a glance, both amused by the men's bickering. The two had been like this throughout dinner, falling into the easygoing back-and-forth of old friends as they recalled when they first met working for a stingy Mr. Cooper's limo service years ago.

"Now wait a second, if that were true, you would've never met me for drinks on sixty-sixth that night."

"Oh please, we hadn't spoken in years. I just thought you were reaching out as an old friend wanting to catch up."

"And I was."

"Asking for an illegal favor doesn't count as catching up."

As the two laughed, Olivia's eyebrows rose, and Quinn's eyes narrowed.

"Now that's a story I'm interested in hearing." Quinn turned to Charlie.

His chuckles dying almost immediately, Charlie held up a hand in defense.

"It wasn't anything bad." He turned to Fitz for help. "It wasn't, right? Back me up here."

Olivia noticed then the way Fitz was suddenly rigid, the genuine amusement gone from his face and replaced by a stiff, half-smile.

"I don't really think we need to tell that story."

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad. It's not like anything _actually_ happened." Oblivious to Fitz's change in demeanor, Charlie began, "So it had been a while since we last talked. Fitz was supposed to be off doing the whole lawyer thing, I finally saved up enough to open up my shop and moved across the country. Business was picking up, we had just started dating," he gestured to Quinn, "everything was going pretty well."

"Then out of nowhere," he continued, "this guy tries to sue me. Says I messed with his brakes or something when he came in for an oil change. Anyways, long story short he tried to take me to court, and I realized there was something familiar about his lawyer's name. Then it finally hits me, it's Mellie –"

The change in the atmosphere was sudden and nearly imperceptible, but she knew it had happened. She sensed it in the way Fitz fidgeted in his seat, and in how he looked away just as Quinn cleared her throat.

"– After a little research I find out she and Fitz moved to Jersey..."

Her eyebrows rose as she started to put the pieces together.

"and I realized it was my chance. I had a whole plan, we'd meet up for drinks and I'd tell him to get his wife to back off or blow the case or something."

 _Ah, the ex-wife_.

Up until now, she had existed in a kind of vacuum, sealed off somewhere far away. She seemed always more a concept than an actual person, and Olivia had to admit that it was a little...strange to think of her as a tangible part of Fitz's past.

"Now, obviously, it didn't work out. I mean, I ended up winning and everything, but..." Charlie reached for his drink, mumbling into the glass just as he raised it to his mouth, "I still say we shouldn't have needed to waste the time."

Charlie chuckled to himself, the sound dying amongst the awkward silence that lingered around the table. A beat passed, and then another, and she realized she was holding her breath, waiting for someone to say anything to break up the discomfort.

"Speaking of drinks," she finally started, unable to ignore the urge to intervene any longer, "Quinn, you said you used bourbon in the marinade for the salmon?"

Just as Quinn eagerly nodded, seeming to release a breath of her own, Olivia felt a hand squeeze her leg. She glanced at Fitz, an apologetic gleam in his eyes as he offered a grateful ghost of a smile at her response

"I did! I can show you which bottle I used? I had them turn one of the cabinets into a minibar, and it's just so convenient for nights like this…" Her mouth running a mile a minute, Quinn shot out of her seat and headed for the kitchen.

Following her lead, Olivia stood, but she made it only a step when Fitz suddenly grabbed her hand. As she turned back, he flashed her a genuine smile, his appreciation evolving into outright adoration.

"And then I can show you the – Olivia?" Quinn called from the kitchen.

"Don't worry, she'll be there as soon as Fitz is done being a sap."

Entirely unphased by Charlie, Fitz raised her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss on the back of it.

Charlie made a gagging noise that neither could ignore, and they shared amused grins just before she retreated to the kitchen.

"Sorry about Charlie," Quinn apologized with a roll of her eyes the second Olivia stepped into the room. "He sometimes has no filter."

She nodded in understanding. She didn't know whether Quinn was referring to his taunting or the conversation before, but that didn't entirely matter. She knew well of Charlie's bluntness by now; she had since the first time she had met Fitz at the shop for lunch, when he claimed, "I knew you two had to be screwing. I knew it the moment I saw you together." Then, under Fitz's harsh glare, he had quickly corrected himself, insisting, "I mean, I knew you two had to be _dating_. Doing the whole boyfriend-and-girlfriend thing...that sometimes involves screwing."

And there wasn't much to be said after that. He was right. It was the first time their relationship had been labelled so explicitly – in more ways than one – simply because there hadn't been a need for it. For all intents and purposes, they were just...together. They _were_ doing the boyfriend-and-girlfriend thing, and sooner, rather than later, it probably would involve screwing…

"So, this is the bourbon I used, and that's where we keep the other drinks," Quinn continued, gesturing as she did.

Minutes later, she finished showing off some of the other kitchen renovations, and, assuming they'd rejoin the men, Olivia turned to leave. However, just before she could, Quinn called out to stop her,

"Wait, Olivia?"

Quinn waited until she turned around. "I've known Fitz for a while now, and I just wanted to say...I've never seen him like this. He's different with you – _good_ different."

Surprised, Olivia could only stand frozen in place as she went on.

"When I first met him, you could just take one look at him and tell he was unhappy. He was just one of those people, you know?" She glanced at the doorway, her voice growing quieter, "Charlie said he hadn't always been like that. Then the divorce happened, and he just went under the radar. " She shook her head. "We barely heard from him, and when we did, it was like he didn't want us to know how he was really doing, like he was ashamed."

Olivia frowned at the image laid before her.

Picking up on her change in demeanor, Quinn was quick to remedy, "But now it's like there's this whole new side to him. These last few weeks he's been at the shop, I don't think I've ever seen him so...alive."

The observation left Olivia momentarily breathless, and, for the second time that day, she found herself caught off guard by how someone else had perceived their relationship.

"I know I probably shouldn't have said all of that," Quinn spoke again, suddenly sheepish, "but after seeing you two together and Charlie mentioning Mellie, I just couldn't help it, and it just seemed like the right time and –"

"Quinn," Olivia interrupted her rambling, "I get it. Please, don't worry about it." Then she paused, still not entirely done processing what Quinn had shared. "I – um – thank you for telling me."

She didn't know if that was the proper response, but she couldn't think straight, and it simply felt the most natural. To her own relief, Quinn released a breath and her shoulders relaxed.

"I guess Charlie isn't the only one without a filter," Quinn joked, matching smiles stretching across both their faces before they made their way out of the kitchen.

* * *

"That was fun."

"Yeah, it was. We should do it again." She stopped at the passenger door of her car, turning to hand Fitz the keys. He raised his eyebrows in question, and when she nodded, he pecked her lips and opened the door for her.

"Oh we definitely will. Charlie said Quinn's just waiting to find out when we're free next month to put it down on the calendar."

He walked around to the driver's seat, and the moment he slid inside, she could feel his eyes on her.

"Liv?"

"Hmm?" She continued looking out the window.

"You ok?"

"Yeah." She nodded.

Still, she could sense his gaze. When almost another minute passed, and he still hadn't started the car, she finally looked over at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shook his head, "you just seem...distracted."

"I think I'm just a little tired." It wasn't a total lie, but she also knew it wasn't the entire truth. She was still thinking over Quinn's words, unsure of whether to bring them up. Before he could respond, to her relief, her phone chimed with an incoming text.

She frowned as she read it over, answering before he could even ask, "I have to run back to the office."

He put the car in drive without question, pulling away from the curb as he questioned, "Why? What happened?"

"I have a meeting in Brooklyn that just got bumped up to first thing in the morning, but I left the folder I need in my office." Groaning, she closed her eyes and rested her head against her seat. "I'll just head over from your place after you're dropped off."

"No."

She opened her eyes, surprised by the definiteness in his tone.

"Huh?"

"I'm taking you to your office, then I'm taking you home. I'll just take the train home from your place."

"Fitz, you don't have to –"

"I am." He glanced at her, his eyes sharp with conviction, just before flashing an assuring grin that nearly melted her on the spot.

A small voice in the back of her head insisted at once: _let this man take care of you_. And so, she nodded, leaning her head against the window.

* * *

"Ok it should be under this pile…" She stopped when she noticed that he was still standing in the doorway, simply taking in the room. "Fitz?"

"I knew your office was nice, but this?" He let out a low whistle.

She smirked, walking over to reach for his hand and guide him inside.

"The view is my favorite."

Without warning, Fitz suddenly spun her around and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"It's my favorite, too." He let his eyes roam over her unashamedly, the implication clear.

The gesture made her grin bashfully. "You are shameless."

"Me? You're the one who brought me up to your fancy office to seduce me."

She tilted her head back in laughter. _"Seduce_ you?"

"Mhmm."

Her laughter faltered the second his lips fell on her neck, a soft moan escaping as her hands gripped his arms.

"Fitz –"

"I wanted to do this all dinner." Suddenly, his mouth was on her jaw, her cheek, her mouth…

She was so caught up in deepening the kiss, she didn't realize he had unbuttoned her blazer. Not until his hand slid inside the jacket, caressing her side from the bottom up, his touch feather light by the time he grazed her breast.

She leaned into his touch, granting the permission he was silently seeking, and, at once, his touch grew firmer, cupping and kneading her flesh as best he could through the layers of clothes still left. He let out a groan, echoed faintly by her own seconds later.

"Now, wait a second. What are you doing back here –"

She gasped as Clark's voice pierced through the haze that had settled around them. She quickly leaned back and pushed Fitz away, watching him stumble just as Clark stopped at her office door.

"Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting?"

Any other time, she would have wiped the sly smile off his face in seconds, but in that moment, she couldn't. Not when she couldn't think straight, not when her entire body was still humming from Fitz's touch.

"I don't think we've met before," Clark walked towards Fitz and held out his hand, his smile just a little less taunting, "I'm Clark."

"Fitz."

While the two shook hands, she quickly located the folder she needed and grabbed it off her desk.

"We just stopped by so I could grab this for tomorrow." She waved it as proof for Clark to see.

"I see." He nodded, a gleam of mischief shining in his eyes. "Don't mind me. I was on my way out and saw that your door was open."

"Just me." She shrugged, trying her best to act casual.

"Mhmm." Clark shot a pointed look in Fitz's direction. "Well, I'm about to head out. Want me to hold the elevator?"

"No thanks, that's ok," she shot down a little too quickly.

Clark didn't bother to hide his amusement as he bid them a final farewell with a rather suggestive, "Have a good night," before slipping out of the room.

She turned to Fitz only to find him holding in a laugh.

"It's not funny!" she chided, but it only helped to break the dam. His deep chuckles suddenly filled the room, and Olivia groaned in response, holding in her own laughter as she lamented, "That's going to be all over the office tomorrow."

"I don't think he actually _saw_ us," Fitz offered lightheartedly.

"I know Clark. He definitely saw something."

"Want me to go chase him down? I can threaten him to keep it on the dl."

"What – the _dl_?" This time she couldn't hold her laughter back. "Is that what you've learned from the kids at work? Do kids even say that anymore?"

"Does it matter?" His laughter joined hers. "You got what I was trying to say."

"That doesn't make it any better." She shook her head. "Never say that again."

He pouted. "Are you always this bossy in your office?"

"Yes," she took a step forward, resting a hand delicately on his chest as she looked up at him through her lashes, "but admit it, you love it."

A wide, cat-that-ate-the-canary grin instantly lit up his face.

"I'll admit that you know me well."

"Good enou–" she was cut off mid-response by a yawn.

Fitz's grin grew, and his gaze turned tender as he stroked her cheek, reaching down afterwards for her hand. "Come on, sleepy. Let's get you –" When he was stopped by his own yawn, they both laughed, slowly starting to make their way to the door.

"You better not fall asleep while driving." She bumped his hip with hers.

"Yeah, well you better stay up and keep me company." He stopped walking, and, before she realized that he did, he yanked her back, causing her to spin and collide with his chest.

"Fitz –" she huffed with a laugh.

"Promise?"

"Promise what?"

He raised his eyebrows. "That you won't fall asleep in the car."

She rolled her eyes and held up three fingers. "I promise."

Chuckling, he corrected her salute, lowering her pinky and lifting her pointer finger instead. "Well, we know you definitely weren't a girl scout."

Just as she was about to respond, she yawned again.

Smirking, Fitz shook his head. "You'll be asleep before we even make it to the end of the block."

"Nope." She grabbed his face. "A promise is a promise." Sealing it with a kiss, she reached for his hand once more and led him to the door.

"Yeah..." Fitz trailed off disbelievingly, "we'll see."

* * *

"Liv? Livvie?"

"Hmm?" She rubbed her eyes, moving to stretch as she woke up before realizing she was still in the car. "Oh –"

"Shh" She opened her eyes just in time to see him reaching across to unbuckle her seatbelt. "I just need your key, then you can go back to sleep."

Blinking slowly, she reached into her purse and sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

"It's ok." He grinned. "You made it longer than I thought you would." He pocketed the key to her apartment as soon as she handed it to him, then lifted her from the car. "Come on."

She let her eyes drift closed, not waking again until they made it inside. He began walking over to the couch with her still in his arms, then paused and suddenly turned to make his way down the hall.

Once they made it to her bedroom, he placed her on the bed and immediately started to remove her shoes. Sitting up, she watched him through a daze of tired curiosity, slowly growing more alert the longer he kneeled in front of her.

It occurred to her after a moment that, for the handful of times he had come to her apartment, this was his first time in her bedroom. And, as he slid off her second shoe, winking up at her when he noticed her gaze, something about the intimacy of the moment made her heart swell. She thought briefly of Quinn's words, and then Clark's, and suddenly realized that _this_ is what they must have sensed – the connection so natural that it was sometimes easy to forget that a gap existed between them in the first place.

She watched as he carefully laid her shoes aside, and, when he looked back up at her, the pure, tender affection in his eyes almost brought tears to hers.

 _I love him_.

It invaded her thoughts, jolting her entire body – quick and easy – like a heartbeat.

It was too soon. She knew it was too soon, and yet, it persisted. Each thud growing louder, echoing in her ears…

 _I love him. I love him. I love him._

He stood, oblivious to her deafening revelation, and made his way over to her dresser.

"Pajamas?"

She stared at his hands, unable to meet his eyes as she swallowed the words she wasn't yet ready to say.

"Second drawer."

He nodded, then opened the drawer and looked for a few seconds, before pulling out a pair. He held them up for her approval, and she nodded. That was her favorite pair.

He walked back over and placed them beside her. After helping her shrug out of her jacket, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I'll wait out there while you get changed, then you can lock me out?"

 _I love him_.

She nodded, and the moment he stepped outside her room, she released a breath.

Minutes later, after exchanging her work clothes for her favorite silk sleepwear and regaining her composure, she found him slouched on the living room couch. He was leaned onto the arm, his head falling awkwardly against the back of the couch with his eyes closed and mouth partially open.

What little progress she had made of taming her emotions back in the bedroom vanished almost immediately. Slowly, she made her way over to him.

"Fitz?" She knew it wasn't loud enough to wake him up, and part of her knew she didn't want it to be. She didn't trust herself enough to know what she'd say if he did wake.

Carefully, she started to adjust his position, first removing his jacket, then putting the decorative pillows aside to make a place for him to lie down. Fortunately, he followed her lead even in his sleep, easily sinking down across the couch as she guided his body. After tucking one of the pillows under his head and laying a throw blanket over him, she moved down to his feet and slid off his loafers.

When she stood back up, she glanced back down the hall at her bedroom, considering it briefly. Then without a second thought, she joined Fitz on the couch, slowly shifting until she was comfortably positioned with her head on his chest.

She was almost asleep again when she felt his arms wrap protectively around her middle. And just as she drifted off, a whisper so quiet and tender it almost went unheard hovered in the stillness above them.

" _I love you."_

* * *

She awoke to the feeling of kisses on the side of her face.

"Liv…"

"Hmm?"

"I think your alarm is going off."

She finally blinked her eyes open and was met immediately by the sight of his grinning face.

"Hi."

She returned his smile. "Hi."

"Sorry for falling asleep on your couch." He rubbed her back, the widening of his grin letting her know he was anything but sorry.

"Don't let it happen again." She put on a stern face. "Next time I'll charge you half a month's rent."

"Half a month?" His jaw dropped in feigned outrage. "You're a crook, woman."

Just as she stuck out her tongue, without warning, he gripped her sides and began tickling her.

"Fitz!" She tried to roll off him, but he wouldn't let her.

"Say you'll give me the boyfriend discount next time I spend the night."

"That-that was...the boyfriend – ah, Fitz, stop!" She was hysterical by now, desperately trying to squirm away from him.

He continued for only a moment longer, then stopped, smiling brilliantly up at her as she caught her breath.

"You're mean," she pouted when she was finally relaxed again. "I don't think there will be a next time."

"That's a lie," he spoke confidently, "you love...having me around too much."

She thought she imagined the lull in his voice, but the hints of bashfulness that peeked through his amusing, cocky facade from moments before told her she hadn't. They both grew silent, the mood no longer as playful.

And then, suddenly, his face was serious.

He cleared his throat. "About last night…"

Her stomach dropped.

What was there to talk about? In the light of day, the night before seemed like a dream, a surreal slip of the subconscious that didn't need to be fleshed out in reality. At least not yet.

"I realized I never apologized about Charlie."

She frowned.

 _Charlie?_

"He shouldn't have brought up my ex-wife. That was…" he shook his head, "unfair to you to be blindsided like that."

"Fitz," she cut him off, surprised that he had even mentioned it, "it's ok. It's nothing, really."

He looked at her with worried eyes, still obviously not entirely believing her. "I can talk to him about it. She's part of my past, and I prefer to keep it that way."

She nodded in understanding, for a split-second thinking about Dean. He had officially been part of her past for only a brief period, and still the last thing she wanted was his name brought up in conversation, let alone when she was with Fitz.

They had found each other, and that was all that mattered now. The past had no business interrupting their present.

As they fell quiet again, she finally noticed the alarm still blaring from her room.

"I should probably get up."

She moved to get up, but he tightened his arms around her.

"Can you...can we just stay here for a minute?"

She was stunned by the emotion written across his face when she turned back to face him and could only nod. She resumed her earlier position, resting her head on his chest and letting him hold her.

Although it didn't feel like it, she was sure more than a minute had passed when she suddenly asked, "Do you ever think this is too easy?"

She didn't know where it came from, but it came out before she could stop it, and she knew there was no taking it back.

He squeezed her tighter in his embrace, placing a kiss on her forehead. She sighed at the contact, relieved that he didn't take the question the wrong way.

"I think," he started, then paused. "I think that's just what it feels like when it's meant to be."

Her breath caught at the conviction in his voice. It made it impossible not to accept his explanation, and so – overcome by the need to be as close to him as possible – she buried her face in his chest, nodding as she breathed him in deeply.

"Ok."

* * *

 _ **A few days later...**_

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Olivia grimaced as she took in her open gas tank. Apparently, she hadn't closed it entirely before making her way over to the school to meet Fitz and had managed to waste probably half of the money she had just spent to fill her tank.

She grabbed tissues out of her purse and screwed it closed quickly. Her frown deepened when she noticed the spilled gas still managed to get on her hands.

"Shit."

"What's wrong?"

She jumped at the sound of Fitz's voice.

"Don't scare me like that." She nudged him with her elbow.

"Sorry. " He chuckled, glancing at her car then back at her. "What happened? It's not working again?"

"No, I just didn't close my gas tank."

"Seriously?"

She narrowed her eyes at the amusement in his voice.

"Not funny. Can I go inside to wash my hands?"

"Yeah, come on, I'll show you where the bathroom is."

She followed him inside and watched as he approached a student standing beside the restrooms.

"Hey, Sebastian."

"Hey, Mr. Grant," he smiled widely, showing off a mouthful of braces.

"What're you still doing here? Ms. Ross told me your sister signed you out while I was cleaning up outside."

"She did, but I forgot a book, so we had to come back." He shrugged. "She just ran to the bathroom."

"Well, we enjoyed having you today." Fitz reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. "I hope you'll come back. This is what we're doing for the next two weeks."

"Cool." Sebastian grinned as he looked over the paper. "I think I wanna come when you do crocheting. My aunt was supposed to teach me but...um...she never did."

She watched Fitz pick up on his change in demeanor, before he offered quickly to cheer him up, "Well, we'd be more than happy to have you. In fact, I was talking to Ms. Ross about adding it as one of our stations."

The boy's smile returned tenfold. "That'd be really cool."

A lull in the conversation allowed Sebastian's attention to drift, and he glanced shyly at Olivia from the corner of his eye.

Fitz turned to her, smirking slightly as he took the initiative to introduce them.

"Liv this is Sebastian. Sebastian this is Liv – uh – Ms. Pope."

"Liv is fine," she waved off his correction, greeting the young boy with a smile. "Hi, Sebastian."

He grinned sheepishly, only meeting her eyes for a few seconds. "Nice to meet you."

As silence again settled around them, she began walking towards the bathroom.

"I'm just gonna go wash this stuff off."

"Yeah, go ahead." Fitz nodded. "I'll be right here."

She went inside and started to make her way down the row of sinks, frowning as each soap dispenser came up empty.

"Only the last one ever has any. It's been like that since I went here," a woman advised with a chuckle from the paper towel dispenser.

"Thanks." She quickly made her way to the last sink. As she washed her hands, she glanced at the woman on the other side of the room with her back turned to her. There was something incredibly familiar about her, and she couldn't help but stare until she got a good look at her profile.

Her eyes widened in surprise when she did.

"Lucia?"

The woman in question whipped her head around fast enough to give herself whiplash.

"Ms. Pope!"

"Sorry," she offered an apologetic smile, "I didn't mean to scare you." She turned off the and shook the excess water off her hands. "I was just surprised to see you."

"Oh, um, same here." Lucia took a few extra paper towels, although her hands were obviously dry. "My, uh, my little brother goes here. I was just picking him up."

"Sebastian?" Olivia made her way over to the paper towels, smiling gratefully when Lucia handed her some of her extra ones.

"Yes, that's him." She nodded, tucking a few nonexistent strands of hair behind her ears. "Are you picking someone up?"

"You could say that." Just as she turned to throw her paper towels in the trash, Lucia quickly made her way to the door.

"Well, it was nice seeing you, Ms. Pope."

Olivia frowned at her formalness. She had only gone with it because Dean preferred it, but there was no reason for it now. And even though she was sure she wouldn't be seeing much of Lucia, she couldn't help but once again insist, "It was nice seeing you, too, and please, just call me Liv."

Lucia responded only with a polite smile, hurriedly making her way out of the room.

After checking to make sure she hadn't gotten anything on her shirt, Olivia followed behind her, finding Fitz on the other side of the door, waving as she retreated. Olivia waved, too, noting the way Lucia seemed to do a double take as she saw the two of them together.

When they were out of sight, she turned to Fitz.

"You didn't tell me Lucia's brother was one of your students."

He looked at her in confusion.

"Lucia?"

"Yeah," she gestured down the hall where they had just left, "Sebastian's sister. She's Dean's assistant."

"Oh." His brows furrowed. "I didn't realize that's who she is. We barely ever crossed paths, and today was Sebastian's first day with us."

She nodded, content to leave it at that. Although he didn't recognize her, Lucia seemed to know exactly who he was, and for whatever reason that was – whether simply from his file or Dean spreading rage and rumors about them at the office – she didn't care to know.

When she didn't say anything else on the topic, he held out his hand. "Ready to go?"

She grabbed it. "Yup."

As they made their way outside, he noted absentmindedly, "So, Sebastian definitely has a crush on you."

"What?" She laughed, swinging their hands back and forth. "How do you know?"

"Trust me, I was that age once. I know."

"Yeah, yeah."

* * *

"How many times do I have to tell you, I don't care."

"I'm just warning you, Liv," Fitz stopped directly in front of his apartment door, turning to face her. "It's not the greatest."

She stared at him blankly. After weeks of spending time at her apartment, she had suggested that they go to his, especially since it was closer to his new job. Although, while he had agreed, his hesitance had grown obvious over the course of the last few days. It had taken some effort, but she had finally gotten to the root of his reluctance.

"Fitz, I don't care what your place looks like."

His eyebrows rose. "You say that now."

Finally, he turned to let them in. As she stepped inside, she took in the studio apartment. The first things to draw her attention were the two couches – one of black leather, situated behind the coffee table that rested in front of the TV, and the other a turquoise sleeper sofa in the back corner of the room, pulled out with the bed made. A small stack of pans sat on the counter beside an aged white stove, and a few frames lined the walls – stock photos still inside – and other than that, everything else seemed to reside in the opened cardboard boxes that lined the walls.

Fitz guided her further inside, scratching the back of his neck as he looked around his own apartment, as if taking it in for the first time, himself.

"Sorry for the mess," he gestured toward the boxes. "This was only supposed to be temporary, so I never really got around to unpacking." Before she could say anything, he rushed over to the fridge, quickly offering, "Do you want anything to drink? This is supposed to be for dinner, but we can open it now if you want?"

Her eyes widened as he produced a bottle of '94 du Bellay.

"Fitz, where did you get that?" She asked in near awe, walking over and gladly accepting the bottle as he handed it over to her.

He grinned proudly at her response. "A little wine shop a few blocks over from work. I mentioned it was your favorite to Quinn, and she told me they had it." He shrugged. "I figured if nothing else would make you want to stay, at least this would."

She looked at the bottle, then at him, then at the bottle again. Deciding that it could, indeed, wait, she carefully placed it back on the counter and cupped Fitz's face, eagerly crashing her lips onto his. She moved one of her hands to the back of his neck, refusing to let either of them pull away until they were both out of breath.

His grin when they did practically split his face in half.

"That's all it takes huh? A fancy bottle of wine."

"Not just any fancy bottle," she re-focused her attention back on the bottle, raising it for him to see, " _'94 du Bellay_ , Fitz! Look at it."

He chuckled, indulging her as he pretended to carefully inspect the bottle. "I don't think I've ever seen you this excited about anything."

"Trust me, after you try it, you'll understand why."

"Well, let's see." He opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle opener. She excitedly handed the bottle back to him and leaned over his shoulder to watch. When he realized she wasn't going to move, he glanced back at her, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "Uh, Liv? I kind of need you to step back. It's not going anywhere, promise."

"Right." She smiled sheepishly, and he laughed, kissing her on the forehead as he gestured to another drawer.

"Chinese menu is in there."

By the time she retrieved it and turned back to Fitz, he had managed to get the cork halfway out. She chose to stay back, simply watching him finish. As she took him in, she was struck by the same all-consuming realization as a few days before.

 _I love him_.

Each time the thought circled in her mind, it weakened her resolve and loosened her jaw.

 _I love him_.

The cork popped.

 _I love him._

He turned to her with a triumphant smile.

 _I love him_.

Her lips parted.

"I lo–"

Her phone rang, so much louder and more disruptive than she remembered. Her heart felt like it was trying to hammer its way out of her chest, her hands shaking slightly as she brought the phone straight to her ear.

"Yes?"

There was a long pause, until at last, there was the faintest, _"Hello."_

Any other time, she may not have recognized the voice so quickly. But in that moment, with her body buzzing and her senses so alive, she knew instantly.

"Lucia?"

 _"Can... can we meet somewhere to talk? I think there's something you need to know."_

* * *

 **A/N: Even though I already have outlines for the next few chapters, I really would love to hear what you guys think about this chapter because it definitely helps me when I sit down to write! How do you feel about the pacing and progress of their relationship? Any thoughts on what's up with Lucia? Are Quinn and Charlie as kinky as they seem? Lol, until next time!**


	10. Chapter 10

" _Lucia?"_

" _Can...can we meet somewhere to talk? I think there's something you need to know."_

 _ **Earlier that day**_

For all her life, Lucia Rodriguez had been a wallflower. Always wading in the background, quiet and observant, noticing things nobody else seemed to. It was what had made her such a great student, what had helped her land a full ride to Barnard. And three years ago, just after graduation, she thought it was what would make her the perfect assistant for the soon-to-be CEO of one of the country's premier private jet companies.

"Lucia!" Her boss came storming out of his office, his face red. "Why am I scheduled to meet with Robert Newberg this afternoon?"

 _Oh how wrong she had been_.

She quickly swallowed the last of her turkey sandwich, sending up a silent prayer of thanks that she was even able to finish it today. "Last week you said you needed to speak to him as soon as possible, and this was the earliest he could meet."

"Yeah, well you need to reschedule." He picked up one of the folders on her desk, flipping through it aimlessly. "I already told you I have another meeting then."

She hurriedly pulled up his schedule, her eyes narrowing as she looked it over. "But there isn't anything else there. It says you're free for two hours –"

"Well it's a good thing I don't pay the computer to keep track of that sort of thing, now isn't it?" He tossed the folder down harshly.

After a moment, he sighed and rounded her desk to stand behind her. Her breath hitched.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap on you like that."

Her stomach coiled at the sudden feel of his hand resting on her shoulder.

"Can you cancel the meeting with Newberg? I'm going out. If a man named Tom Larsen gets here before I get back, just let him wait in my office."

She kept her eyes locked on the screen and nodded, holding her breath.

"Thanks, Lucy, you're the best."

He gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze, and then, he was off.

She didn't move.

 _I need this job._

She chanted it in her mind, over and over, until it stuck. Eventually, her body started to relax. She rolled her shoulders a few times, shaking off the lingering sensation of his touch.

At once, her phone chimed and she glanced down to see an incoming text from her brother. She sighed heavily.

 _That_ was why she needed this job.

She rolled her eyes at his message: _**Don't forget I'm going to after school (like how you forgot to sign my test :/ )**_

Then grinned at the next one: _**Seriously, now Mrs. Romero said if you don't sign it tonight I won't get my correction points. I don't know why you like her so much, she sucks**_

She responded quickly: _**Stop hiding in the bathroom and texting. Go to class**_ **.**

He was quicker: _**It's lunch**_

She chuckled, deciding the best way to stop him was to no longer entertain him. Setting her phone back down, she stretched her neck and quickly sent an email to Robert Newberg's assistant, before returning to what she had been working on before her quick lunch. Nearly half an hour passed when she noticed she was missing a few documents. Frowning, she realized that she had given them to her boss that morning, and he had yet to give them back. With yet another silent prayer of thanks for his absence, she quickly slid into his office and made her way over to his desk.

She glanced over the mess of scattered papers that littered his workspace, and her brows furrowed. She didn't like being in his office. In fact, she could barely stand it nowadays. She wanted to be in and out as quickly as possible, but now that seemed highly unlikely.

Taking a deep breath, she tried her best to ignore the growing tightness in her chest and began carefully sifting through the papers.

"Come on, where is it…"

Even while trying to be diligent, her haste made her clumsy, and she suddenly knocked a folder off the desk, sending its contents flying across the floor. She quickly dropped to the ground and snatched up a handful of documents. She managed to grab a few when something caught her eye.

There were pictures. Quite a few pictures of...Ms. Pope?

She slowly reached for the one closest to her, then another and another after that. They were from the same day, all taken from a distance as she waited outside a restaurant. Following the pictures' progression, she noticed someone making his way toward her. His back remained turned to the camera as he embraced her and led her inside, but Lucia stared long and hard, unable to shake the feeling that there was something familiar about him.

It wasn't until a moment later that she realized it didn't really matter. She clearly wasn't supposed to see those pictures, let alone analyze them.

She glanced them over a final time, and a shiver ran down her spine. They may not have been for her eyes, but she was also certain they weren't supposed to exist.

"Need a hand?"

She lurched forward with a gasp, the pictures falling to the ground again.

"Sorry." The same voice apologized. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Blood rushed to her cheeks at the thinly veiled amusement in his words, and she froze, her eyes locked on his feet as they entered her line of vision.

"Here, let me." Suddenly, he was kneeling before her, an unfamiliar face staring directly into hers.

She was struck by how stoic his expression almost was. _Almost_ , because at his first glance at the pictures, an eyebrow rose – inquisitive, maybe even surprised. He masked it well, but it never quite left as he gathered the pictures and documents, then unceremoniously shoved them in a folder that, she realized after a moment, was his own.

And then, just as casually, he stood and extended a hand to help her from the ground. She reached for it hesitantly, half-expecting him to apologize for his inattention and hand back over the pictures and documents, but he never did. Instead, when she rose, he offered a charming hint of a smile, keeping his hold on her hand as he shook it.

"Tom Larsen. Nice to meet you."

"You're here for Mr. Shaw."

It was meant to be a statement, but it came out more like an accusation, as her gaze involuntarily settled on the folder now tucked under his arm.

"I am." He dropped her hand and his eyes narrowed, an accusation in its own right.

She swallowed hard, the tide of emotions that had swelled since his arrival – the embarrassment, the surprise, the confusion – settling in the pit of her stomach. Something wasn't right, and it made her want to...well, she didn't entirely know.

 _Why are you taking pictures of Ms. Pope?_

She didn't know how she knew he was the one taking the pictures, but she did. Her gut told her. And if there was one thing she had learned from the times she had spent around the woman in those photographs, it was to trust her gut.

"Is he...around?" He glanced around the room, then out the she didn't immediately respond, he spared a glance at his watch. "I can wait for about ten minutes, but after that, I have to head out. If he's not back by then, will you just let him know I stopped by?"

She nodded, pushing back all her own questions to offer instead, "Can I get you anything while you wait?"

"Yeah, a new client," he mumbled, just loud enough for her to hear.

She wasn't entirely sure how to respond to the smirk that followed – a conspiratorial gesture that seemed to say 'Come on, you get it.' And she did get it, but she didn't trust this man any more than her boss. And so, with a nod and a shadow of an acknowledging grin, she shifted awkwardly in place.

"I'm good, thank you," he tried instead.

She nodded, then gestured to one of the seats in the room. "He should be back soon. You can wait in here." With that, she slipped out of the room and returned to her desk.

She spent the ten minutes staring at her screen, scrolling endlessly. She had forgotten to grab the documents she needed, but even if she hadn't, she knew she would've been too distracted to actually do work. Her wariness grew by the minute, snowballing into full-blown suspicion by the time Tom reemerged from her boss's office.

"Look, I need to go. Can you just let him know I left everything on his desk?"

Just as she nodded, Dean strolled around the corner. The second he laid eyes on Tom, he quickened his pace, his face settling into a forced grin.

"You're early."

"No, I was on time. You're late."

Lucia kept her eyes on the computer screen, pretending to pay them no attention.

"Well," Dean started for his office, "let's discuss things in my office."

Tom stayed in place. "No can do, I have to head out." As Dean's head whipped around, he continued, "I told you if we met during the day, I only had a few minutes."

"That's bullshit–" he stopped short, suddenly seeming to remember they had an audience.

Lucia felt her boss's eyes on her and shifted in her seat, leaning forward and squinting at the screen to feign interest.

"Look," he lowered his voice considerably, "can't we just go inside and talk for a few minutes."

"Everything is on your desk." Tom began buttoning his coat. "And since you seem to keep forgetting, don't contact me until I contact you." And with that, he walked down the hallway.

Dean stayed in place, everything about his aura hostile, and Lucia again shifted in her seat.

Abruptly, he redirected his attention. "Lucy, what time will Newberg be here?"

She frowned. "He's not coming today, you told me to –"

"I told you I needed to meet with him as soon as possible. At least get him on the phone or something. Do I have to do everything around her my damn self?"

He stormed into his office, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

The moment it turned 5, she felt nothing short of utter relief. Dean's attitude had made it the afternoon from hell, and she couldn't get out of the office quick enough. She was packed up, the computer off and her coat on when the devil, himself, peeked his head out from his office.

"Why the hell does Leo keep bothering me about a list of statistics? Were you supposed to send them to him?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. Those were the documents she had needed from his office, but she hadn't dared to try to get them once he got back. She figured she'd have another chance to get them tomorrow.

"The numbers are in your office. You wanted to look them over to see if we could use them in an ad."

"Well, make sure it's done before you leave."

She sighed again, pushing her shoulders back and finally turning to face him. She had had enough.

"Actually, I was already on my way out," she gestured to her coat.

He raised his eyebrows. "Then hopefully it won't take you too long."

"Mr. Shaw –"

He glanced down at his watch, a smirk growing on his face. "Actually, I have to leave, too. I have plans. So after you finish with the list, lock up the office for me, will you?" Not waiting for an answer, he rushed back inside his office, grabbed his jacket and left.

Lucia stood there for a moment, then groaned loudly. Entering his office, she immediately found the papers she needed now on the corner of his desk. Grabbing them, she paused when she spotted the folder his guest had brought in on the center of his desk. She eyed it for a long while, her suspicions returning ten fold.

She could have it back there tomorrow morning before he even got in…

 _Fuck it_.

She grabbed it and slid it under the stack already in her hands, praying that she wasn't making a mistake.

* * *

"And then Mr. Grant showed us how to – Cia?"

"Huh?"

"You ok?"

"Yeah," she nodded, ushering her little brother inside as she opened their apartment door.

"You seem distracted." Sebastian shrugged his backpack off, letting it drop heavily.

"Hey," Lucia pointed at it, "your room, now."

"Yeah, yeah." He waved a dismissive hand.

"And I'm fine, I just had a long day at work."

It wasn't a total lie, but she had been distracted their entire walk home for other reasons. What were the odds that she would run into Ms. Pope after what she had come across today? And with her boss's former driver nonetheless? It had only taken her a few seconds to realize that he matched the build of the man in the photographs, and a few more seconds to realize that their relationship – whatever it was – explained her boss's perpetually bad mood as of late. What it didn't explain, however, was why he had those pictures.

"Is that why you almost forgot me after I reminded you not to?" He called out on his way to his bedroom.

She rolled her eyes as she hung up her coat. "I told you, I didn't forget, my boss needed me to finish something, and I had to take the R."

"Should have just walked." Returning, he plopped down on the couch. "We ordering pizza?"

"Sure, I don't feel like cooking."

Minutes later, after she had changed into sweats, she joined him on the couch, smiling when he leaned his head on her shoulder.

"Pizza's on its way."

"Pepperoni?"

"Obviously."

She nudged him playfully and turned her attention to the TV. She smiled when she saw it was one of their Titi Elena's favorite movies.

"You know she'd be maaad she's missing it."

Sebastian nodded, looking up at her with a grin. "She'd probably curse us out for watching without her." They watched silently for a few more minutes before he spoke again, "I'm gonna learn to crochet."

She smiled, surprised. It was one of the things Titi Elena had planned to teach him just before she got sick again. She had tried to teach her brother, herself, once, the week after she passed, but he hadn't been up for it.

"You are?"

"Yeah, Mr. Grant told me that they're doing it next week."

"That's great," though she tried to keep her tone cheery, she couldn't help but get distracted yet again at the mention of her former co-worker. "So Mr. Grant, how long has he been there?"

Sebastian shrugged. "A few weeks. Everyone really likes him. That's why I wanted to go to after school."

She was quiet after that, thinking back on the weekend her boss had demanded that she spend her Saturday finding him a new driver. It was that Monday morning that he stormed in clearly hungover and made her cancel all his meetings, swearing incessantly under his breath about how it was "such fucking bullshit" that he had been dumped.

"I'll be back." She stood, making her way over to her purse and grabbing the folder she had slipped into it right before she left. Making her way to her bedroom, she sat on the edge of her bed and stared at it long and hard. She took a deep breath, then another and finally, with a shaky hand, pulled it open.

The first things she found inside were the personal records of a man named Billy Arnold Chambers. A photocopy of his passport, an arrest record from the nineties, documents from a hospital stint for an overdose. Then there were pictures, incriminating pictures, dated over the past few months, all of him in an office – presumably his – snorting cocaine. Lastly, there was a sticky note attached to one, the handwriting just barely discernible; it read: "Witness from Angel's."

Confused, she removed the documents, careful to keep them in order. Just underneath was a printed-out email from someone named Lillian Forrester containing what looked to be a draft for an article. Large, bold black letters titled it: "Like Father Like Son," but it was the subheading that caught her attention: "Stealing and salacious affairs, is Fitzgerald 'Big Gerry' Grant II's son following in his father's floundering footsteps?"

While some of the subsequent paragraphs were fleshed out, most contained merely a few words:

"Proof of stolen money (surveillance from Shaw estate - not good, but workable)."

"Grant (allegedly) sets plan in motion that same day. Meets Pope at Angels, witness - Billy Chambers"

"Olivia Pope - clueless scapegoat or conniving conspirator?"

"Proof of the affair. Barneys - Diane overhears Pope confirm their relationship. Dinner party - I see it with my own eyes. Shaw, himself, recalls many times when the two were alone."

"Caught in the act. Grant physically assaults Shaw (surveillance from apartment complex)."

"At this time, Shaw and Red Giant Jets have decided to not press charges. Shaw, however, has revealed that he is "deeply hurt" by the revelation. He says of his relationships with the two: 'I made the request myself for Fitz to be my personal driver, which tells you how much I respected him, and, to speak bluntly, I've loved Olivia since college, I mean, I was going to marry her.' In the end, he goes on to say that he is at least grateful for the outcome, 'When you think about the situation with [Grant's] father, about how much money was taken from _charity_ , things could've been much worse. I'm just happy that none of my other employees were affected by their actions. Who knows what they could have been planning or just how bad things could've gotten?'"

Finally, at the page's bottom was a comment separate from the drafted article:

 _Billy Chambers checks out. Looks like your little talk worked, he's agreed to confirm that he saw them together that night. I passed along everything to Diane and she agreed that we need more sources from the fight. We want to double down on Grant throwing punches and make sure there's enough proof of that since Pope's smart and might try for a defamation suit. If she does, we can always threaten to file a lawsuit for assault._

 _Keep me updated._

 _LF_

By the time she finished, Lucia's confusion had given way to utter shock, and, wide-eyed, she quickly flipped to the next page, then the page after that. More pictures, more documents – some of Ms. Pope, some of the driver, many of them together. There were past emails with similar outlines of the article, just with a few tweaks. One earlier draft contained in its subheading: "Money laundering and licentious affairs," another, "Fraud and flings," and yet another, "Tax evasion and illicit liaisons," all three with x's and notes like "too messy" inked next to them. However, while the accused crime changed freely, the article's intention remained the same: to smear the names of its two subjects.

Lucia wasn't sure what she had imagined she'd find, but it certainly wasn't this. It was like one big conspiracy, and she felt entirely out of her wheelhouse, a wave of regret suddenly churning in her stomach. Quickly, she slammed the folder closed and tossed it on her bed, beginning to pace back and forth.

"Cia?"

She stopped short as Sebastian appeared in her doorway.

"What's wrong?"

She glanced at the folder but shook her head. "Nothing, go back and watch the movie."

But he didn't move, instead eyeing her purposefully.

"Sebby, I promise everything's fine –"

He sucked his teeth. "You know I don't like when you call me that."

She smiled, grateful for the opening, "Which is why I always will."

Still, he stayed in place, staring at her warily until at last he said, "Whatever it is, you know what Titi Elena would say…"

She raised her eyebrows expectantly as he trailed off. "What?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, "that's why I said _you_ would know."

Immediately, they both burst into laughter. As it eventually tapered off, she walked up to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder and pulling him in for a hug.

"What's this for?" he asked, his words muffled by her shirt.

"For always making me feel better."

There was a sudden, hard knock on the front door.

"Pizza's here." Sebastian immediately removed himself from her arms and headed out of the room, pausing only when he realized she wasn't following. "You coming?"

"Yeah," she nodded, her gaze falling again on the folder, "There's a twenty in my coat pocket. Go pay, I'll be out in a second."

Making her way over to it, she thought of what Titi Elena really would say. Probably something clever about how she needed to get off her ass and do something, how sitting and worrying would bring her nothing but frown lines and misery, and – she could practically hear her now – 'who the hell wanted to deal with that?'

"Cia?" Sebastian called out.

With a deep breath, she reached for the folder again. "I'm coming. I just have to make a quick phone call."

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want me to go in with you?"

Olivia placed her hands on either side of Fitz's face, making sure she had his full attention. "I'm sure. You didn't even have to come this far with me."

"I did." He grabbed one of her hands and kissed her palm. "It's getting late, and it's already dark…"

She raised an eyebrow, something in his tone revealing that he had more to say. "And?"

He furrowed his brows. "And what?" When her expression didn't let up, he sighed. "And...I don't entirely trust this situation."

"What?" Olivia took a step back, shaking her head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Fitz immediately reached for her again, his arms circling her waist. "It's just," he sighed, "first we run into his assistant of all people and now she's reaching out to you, just like that? Isn't that a little off?"

She looked away, not wanting to reveal her own worry. She did think it was off, very off. In fact, it left her a little suspicious.

But the poor girl had sounded terrified on the phone, and the last thing Olivia wanted was to scare her off by having Fitz tag along when she specifically requested that they be alone. By the time they had hung up, she knew he would insist on walking the few blocks with her to their meeting place – a cafe located not too far from either of them – so she agreed on the condition that he not actually come inside.

"I'm sure it will be fine," she tried to reassure him, meeting his gaze again.

He stared at her, giving her the same expectant look she had given him, but she didn't cave.

"Stop worrying," she smiled for emphasis. "Look, we passed a Chinese restaurant on this block, why don't you pick up our food and I'll meet you there when we're done?"

Fitz continued to study her, a long moment passing before he finally sighed. "Fine, but if anything happens, you call me, ok?"

Nodding, she leaned in for a gentle kiss. "Ok."

* * *

Always Brewing was even smaller than it looked from the outside. Tucked between two towering office buildings, the cafe was like a world entirely of itself, intimate and hidden away from the life outside its four walls. Olivia spotted Lucia seated in a back corner before the door even closed behind her. Cupping a steaming mug between her hands, the young woman looked up quickly at the sound of Olivia's entrance. She tried for a smile, but it merely revealed her apprehension, and Olivia returned a cautious smile of her own, slowly approaching the table.

"I got something when I came in so that I wasn't just sitting here," Lucia explained as a greeting when Olivia slipped into the seat across from her, quickly adding, "I would've ordered for you, too, but I didn't know what you would have wanted. I can wait if you want to get something before we–"

"Lucia," Olivia interrupted her rambling, offering another smile, "I'm ok, really."

Lucia nodded, shifting her gaze nervously as she began fidgeting with her fingers.

When she didn't say anything else, Olivia prompted her, "So you said there was something you wanted to show me?"

A grimace passed over the young woman's face, and Olivia shifted in her seat, suddenly on alert.

"There is…" Lucia trailed off, glancing significantly at her purse before reaching inside of it. "I, um, saw something today," she lowered her voice considerably, "that I don't think I should've seen." She produced a folder and set it carefully in the middle of the table. "But it...it involves you, and I think _you_ should see it."

Olivia eyed the folder, reaching for it hesitantly. Between Lucia's unease and the way her gut was working overtime, she knew she wouldn't like what she found inside.

Several pages in, she realized "not like" was well beyond an understatement.

Confusion quickly gave way to anger, steadily rising with each new picture, boiling to rage with every document, until at last, it reached fever pitch.

" _Son of a bitch_ ," she hissed.

There it was, her and Fitz's entire relationship, distorted and debased for Dean's own corrupt intentions. She couldn't believe him. Well...she could. In fact, it was just like him, or rather, it was just like his mother, who, according to what lay before her, obviously had her fair share of say in the matter.

"He doesn't know that I took it from his desk," Lucia spoke timidly, pulling Olivia from her thoughts.

In her sudden rage, she had honestly forgotten that Lucia was there. She took a deep breath to avoid misdirecting her anger, but still it made her voice waver as she responded, "Thank you for sharing it with me." She closed the folder and handed it back to Lucia, using the moment to regain her composure before she continued, "Thank you for taking the risk, I really appreciate it."

Biting down on her lip, Lucia slid the folder back into her purse. "I don't know anything beyond what's in here." She glanced back up at Olivia apologetically. "I'm sorry."

Olivia shook her head. "Don't be. You've been more than helpful." When Lucia continued to look at her doubtfully, she added, "I'll take care of it from here."

Yet, for all her confidence, she wasn't sure just how she would do so. She knew how that family moved, how they were willing to jump through all kinds of hoops when they declared war on someone. But for the first time in a long time, she was happy; genuinely, truly _happy_ , and she refused to let them continue to intrude upon that.

This time to reassure herself, she insisted, "I'll handle it."

Much to her surprise, Lucia blurted out, "I want to help," then, as if she had surprised her own self, started to blush fiercely as her eyes went wide.

Olivia considered her, waiting for her to take the offer back, but she never did. Instead, she swallowed hard, repeating, "I... I want to help." Then, with shaky yet growing confidence, she continued, "I have access to most of his files. I can see if there's anything else, maybe I can try to figure out when they want to release it?"

Touched by her sincere determination, Olivia couldn't help but reach out, placing a hand over hers. "I appreciate that, Lucia, really, but you and I both know if he catches you, you could lose your job."

Lucia nodded, averting her gaze and seeming to shrink in on herself as she considered it. After a moment, however, she straightened her spine and re-met Olivia's gaze, "I still want to do it."

With a small, appreciative smile, Olivia tilted her head. "Can I ask why? Why do you want to risk helping us?"

Lucia didn't even seem to think about her answer, "Because you're a good person, and he isn't."

There was something about the way she said it, something emphatic about her tone that made Olivia want to ask more, but she decided it wasn't the right time.

Instead, she nodded, giving Lucia's hand a grateful squeeze.

"Ok."

* * *

Fitz glanced down at his phone again.

It had been just around twenty minutes since he and Olivia parted ways, and he was starting to get antsy. Although she had tried to reassure him, he couldn't deny that Dean's assistant requesting a private meeting with her didn't sit quite right with him. In the past few weeks, things had been going well – in fact, better than well; things were amazing, and he desperately wanted to keep it that way.

That meant no unwanted disruptions, especially from the likes of Dean Shaw, and especially not tonight.

That was another reason he was anxious, though he tried to pretend it wasn't. He had decided the week before that tonight would be the night he'd finally tell her that he loved her. He had known during their first date but hadn't admitted it to himself until a few weeks afterwards. It was the night when he had fallen asleep on her couch, when he dreamt that she had whispered that she loved him, and he had said it back. And when he woke, he found the words had etched their way into his soul. He knew instantly at the sight of her sleeping on his chest, that she was who he wanted to wake up to every morning for as long as she'd let him.

He came close to blurting it out earlier. The way her face lit up when he revealed her favorite wine absolutely melted him, warming his insides with intense affection and making it so easy for the words to just slip out…

But now, they were here. Well, he was here, and she was down the block, talking about who the hell knows what.

He fiddled with the bag of takeout resting on the table in front of him. He tapped his foot. He checked his phone again.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he glanced outside. A relieved smile stretched across his face as he watched her peek inside the window, looking for him. He was outside soon afterwards, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"How was it?"

She hummed softly at the contact. "Fine."

Surprised that she didn't offer more as they started walking, he asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing to worry about." She reached up for the hand resting over her shoulder, lacing her fingers through his. "I'll tell you about it later."

There was an uneasiness underlying her words that gave him immediate pause, and he glanced down at her, frowning slightly. "You sure? We can talk about it now."

"Positive." She turned to him as they stopped at a corner, leaning up to peck his lips. "I've got it covered."

"Really?" It came out more accusatory than he meant, and he quickly cleared his throat.

She stiffened at his tone, and he was just about to apologize when she abruptly switched gears, "So what'd you get for us?" When he didn't immediately respond, she continued, "Did you get egg rolls? I remember you said you were craving them the other day."

He took the hint and, not wanting to push her, acquiesced, "Yeah, I did. I got you scallion pancakes, too, and a few other things for us to share."

* * *

The rest of the walk back to his apartment was relatively quiet. Soon, they were settled inside, their food spread out on the coffee table. While she relaxed on the couch, he made his way over to the fridge, returning a moment later with two glasses and the bottle of wine. He chuckled as she sat up straight at the sight, clapping her hands excitedly.

"Now for the moment you've been waiting for…" He twisted the replacement cork he had stuck in just before they left, removing it dramatically. He filled up one glass halfway, and Olivia immediately reached for it, but he was quicker, snatching it up and raising it to his lips.

" _Fitz!_ "

"Hmm," he lowered the glass, pretending to inspect it carefully, "you're right, this is good."

He could barely get the words out before the entire bottle was snatched from his hands, and Olivia was pouring her own generous portion. He watched in amusement as she took a long sip and closed her eyes.

"Liv?" He chuckled.

"Shh, I'm having a moment."

Biting down on another laugh, he sat down beside her while she quickly finished her first glass.

"Did you actually taste it or were you just inhaling it?" He teased.

She paid him little attention, sighing contently. "It's even better than I remember."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." He started to pour her another glass.

As he did, she watched him, and when he finally turned to her, he noticed that the playfulness in her expression had given way to something more serious. Her eyes roamed over his face and she opened her mouth, then closed it quickly, as if shoving whatever she was going to say deep down back inside.

"Liv?" He tried to coax her, but his own voice wavered with a sudden nervousness.

It felt like he was back in his dream, back in that glorious moment when they whispered those three words – when he felt his freshly bared soul was cocooned in hers, and hers just as safely in his.

He reached out to stroke her cheek. This was his chance. He was going to say it…

But then, her lips were on his, and the contact – as always – seared his thoughts until everything was simply sensation; soft lips and soft skin, an intoxicating blend of vanilla and mint and a sweet scent he could never quite place, the sound of her breaths, growing quicker and uneven as he pulled her onto his lap.

She shifted so that she was straddling him, and he didn't hesitate to pull her even closer, his hands falling first on the middle of her back then travelling lower, lower, until she sighed into their kisses and a low rumble swelled in his chest. They both knew they could only stay like that for a moment, his hands on her ass, his growing arousal pressed against hers...

His shirt went first, then hers, then went her bra, and the growl steadily rising in his throat finally escaped.

It had occurred to him once, after they'd spent the better portion of half an hour making out on her couch, that being with her made him feel like a teenager again. It seemed that each time they were together, they'd reveal a little more, go just a little further – the excitement of discovery, itself, enough to satisfy.

But, as he pulled back to gaze at her now, taking in the curve of her breasts – the expanse of soft, gorgeous flesh, always partially concealed, exposed fully at last – he was taken back not to his youth, but to the night they met. The same surge of molten lust flooded his veins as he moved his kissed to her neck, then her collarbone, lingering a little longer each time.

While she ran one hand over his back, she tangled the other in his hair, gently urging him downwards, and that simple gesture – the very thought of her desire matching his – opened Pandora's box. Instantly, he remembered the sounds she had made, the way she had felt around his fingers, the way she had tasted.

She had just started to reach for his belt, but he didn't give her a chance to unbuckle it. Instead, he flipped her over so that she was lying on the couch and he was hovering above her. Her surprised gasp melted into a moan as his mouth descended on one of her breasts and his hand grasped the other, the sound making him grow impossibly more erect.

"Fitz," she sighed, and he switched sides. But soon, her voice grew more purposeful, "Fitz, Fitz…"

He paused immediately, sitting up to make sure he had a clear view of her face. She was breathing heavily, her gaze sliding down to his chest and lingering there.

"Liv?"

She blinked, replacing her gaze with a roaming hand as she met his eyes again. "Condoms?"

He groaned, partially because she had finally made her way to his belt, unbuckling it with ease, and partially because he knew they'd have to stop there.

"I don't have any." It had been so long since he had needed them that even now, it always slipped his mind every time he made a trip to the store. Olivia's hands stilled and he grabbed them in his, pressing kisses to her wrists. "I know you mentioned you're on birth control, and I'm clean…" he offered, then waited with her hands in his – a silent sign of deference, whatever happened next was entirely up to her.

She shifted beneath him and frowned. "I missed the appointment for my depo shot and haven't gotten a chance to reschedule." With a loud sigh, she dropped her head back.

He swallowed hard, fighting with everything in him against the urge to latch his mouth onto her neck, and lowered himself onto his elbows. "I'm sorry," he kissed the side of her face.

She placed her hands on his back and pulled him closer, until, finally, they were skin-to-skin, his full weight just shy of resting entirely on her. They both sighed at the contact.

"Me too."

He flipped them over so that she was lying on top, and they stayed like that for a long while. In the ashes of his fervor remained an intense need to be close to her, and, eventually, with his fingers tracing imaginary swirls across her back, he asked, "Do you want to spend the night?"

She nodded against his chest. "I need to borrow something to sleep in."

In one swift movement, he stood with her in his arms and made his way over to the small dresser beside his pullout bed. He smiled at her small shriek of laughter as he dropped her on the bed, then pulled out a shirt and a pair of athletic shorts.

"Here." He plopped down beside her, handing over the clothes.

"Thank you." She leaned in to kiss him and, though he knew it was supposed to be little more than a peck, he couldn't help but deepen it. His hands cupping her face, he swiped her bottom lip with his tongue. She yielded immediately, running a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck.

Not until they started to lie back on the bed did she pull away.

"Fitz, we shouldn't."

"I know," he sighed, resting his forehead against hers, breathing heavily.

Finally, after a moment, she stood, holding his clothes to her chest. "Take the food out while I get changed?"

"Yup." He pointed to the apartment's only door other than the entrance, "Bathroom's over there."

He watched her walk inside, then, as the door closed, rubbed his hands over his face.

He may not have been sure of much, but he knew with certainty that one of these days Olivia Pope would be the death of him. And he'd enjoy every last second of it.

By the time she returned, changed and adorably swamped in his clothes, he had set the food out. With her legs in his lap, they ate and fed one another from each other's plates, and drank until he was sure she was tipsy, though she insisted between giggles that she wasn't. They fought over the remote, playfully wrestling until he gave in, and watched old movies until they both dozed off. And finally, when they made their way to be, he held her close until she fell asleep.

All the while, those three little words danced on the tip of his tongue, and thoughts of all else – even the meeting with Lucia only hours before – drifted from his mind as he, too, fell asleep.

* * *

"Hey, Fitz, I'm glad I caught you."

Fitz looked up from picking up scraps of paper to find Quinn at the cafeteria's entrance.

"Oh, hey, Quinn, I didn't know you were here this late."

"Extra help," she shrugged, joining him in picking up the last few pieces of paper. "Fun day?"

"We're doing crafts this week. Some of the kids wanted to try making paper doll chains."

"I tried that once," she tossed her scraps into the trash and grinned at a sudden memory, "I sliced my finger open. Had to get stitches and everything." Before Fitz could react, she shrugged again. "Anyways, I just wanted to know if you and Liv were going to game night at Valerie's?"

He paused, frowning slightly, "That's tonight?"

"Yup. She says she has you guys down as a 'maybe,' so I told her I'd find out for her."

Scratching his forehead, Fitz pulled out his phone and skimmed his last messages. Sure enough, one of the last texts he had sent to Olivia was four days ago asking if she wanted to go. Other than that, there were two other messages, one from the next day, wishing her good luck at work – she had already told him that it was going to be a hectic week, so he didn't think much of her silence – and the other was from just last night, when he asked if she wanted to go out that weekend to take her mind off work.

Though he knew she was busy, he couldn't help but feel that it was a little strange that he had her from her so little in the past week. Come to think of it, he realized, they had barely spoken since she spent the night at his apartment.

"So, is that a no?"

He turned to Quinn, nearly having forgotten that she was there. "Probably." Pushing his growing worries aside, he added, "Can you tell her I said thanks for inviting us and that we'll definitely try to make it next time?"

"Will do." Quinn started on her way out, "Tell Liv I said hi."

He tried his best but couldn't keep the frown off his face. "I will."

* * *

Fitz glanced down into the paper bag once more, making sure the styrofoam container of guacamole hadn't spilt on the walk over like last time, before he knocked on Olivia's door. Nearly a minute passed before he heard her checking the peep hole and she opened the door.

"Fitz?"

"Surprise," he raised the bag with a smile.

"You're here." She smiled back, but something in her expression gave him pause.

"I haven't heard from you in a bit and wanted to make sure you weren't overworking yourself." Then, catching the way she kept glancing anywhere but at him, he was suddenly unable to ignore the sense that he was distracting her from something. "I can just drop this off and head out, if you're in the middle of something…"

"No," she shook her head, "I mean, I'm doing something, but–" she looked him over, and a genuine smile lit up her face, "You came all this way, with food." She grabbed his hand, leading him inside. "And…"

"And?"

She stopped once they were fully inside and turned to face him, biting down on her lip. "And I missed you."

He grinned widely. "I missed you, too."

She kissed him, then motioned for him to sit on the couch. "Let me just move this stuff out of the way." She shut her laptop and grabbed the papers spread across her coffee table, placing them on a nearby chair.

He watched her curiously. "So what's had you so busy this week?"

She paused, fiddling with one of the papers, then shrugged. "Just trying to stay on top of some stuff before it gets out of hand." Her focus remained on the papers as she continued, "I, uh, might actually have to step out a little later, but you can stay here. It shouldn't take too long."

"Want me to take the ride with you?"

"No," she answered abruptly, then cleared her throat. "I mean, you don't have to. I'm going to be in work mode, I don't think I'd make great company."

He stood, walking up behind her and pulling her into his arms. "You're always great company."

"Thank you." He kissed her cheek and she smiled, placing her hand over his arms. "But I still think you should stay."

He could take a hint, so he didn't push it any further. Instead, they made their way back over to the couch. They started to take the food out of the bag, but Olivia was quickly distracted by her phone. By the time he finished, she was still standing in place, typing fervently with a small frown.

"Liv?"

She didn't answer.

"Livvie?"

She glanced up, flashing him a small smile. "Sorry, one second."

But one second turned into one minute, and he eventually plucked the phone from her hands.

"Fitz!"

"Sit. Eat. Work can wait."

She stared at him incredulously, but he merely stared back, eyebrows raised.

"Fine," she huffed, plopping down on the couch.

"Good." He grinned as he sat beside her, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

She eyed the spread on the table, then stood again. "They forgot utensils. I'll be right back."

As she made her way to the kitchen, her phone began to vibrate, one text lighting up her screen after the next. He glanced down at it in his hands, finding it still unlocked, and skimmed the messages over without thinking much of it.

 _ **Cyrus: Ok, meeting has been moved to tomorrow at 3.**_

 _ **Cyrus: Hopefully Ethan won't screw thay up too.**_

 _ **Cyrus: Next tome I'm calling you. My fingers are too damn fat to text on this phone**_

He chuckled, not in the least surprised that it was Cyrus blowing up her phone. But, suddenly, another message came through.

 _ **Lucia: Mr. Shaw went straight home tonight, but he's on board for Del Posto tomorrow. Should I make it a reservation for two?**_

He read the message a second time, then a third, a tight knot forming in his stomach.

"Ok, here we go."

He quickly put her phone to sleep and placed it back on the table as she re-entered from the kitchen.

"So how was–what's wrong?" She sat beside him, brows furrowed.

He didn't look at her, he didn't feel like he could. The questions settled around him, heavy as bricks, locking him in. Had that been what she and Lucia were meeting about? Was that why she hadn't wanted him to go?

"Fitz?" She placed a hand on his knee.

"I need some water." Quickly, he stood and headed for the kitchen. Once he was sure she hadn't followed, he leaned his hands onto the counter and took a deep breath. The rush of questions slowed until he was left with only one:

 _What the hell?_

The thought of her planning to meet with Dean. The thought of her having dinner with him…

The last thing he wanted was to let his anger speak for him when he brought it up, and so, he stayed another minute, taking a few more deep breaths and eventually filling a glass with water before he walked back out.

"You ok?" Olivia asked worriedly from over the back of the couch.

He nodded, taking a long sip to avoid actually answering. She eyed him as he returned to his seat and then for a long moment afterwards. But still, he didn't say anything, and she instead turned her attention to her phone.

He watched her from the corner of her eye while she checked her messages. Afterwards, she turned to him with a smile.

"Good news is, I get to stay in tonight."

He turned to her and took in her smile – saw the way it made her eyes light up – and he had two thoughts simultaneously.

The first: that he was absolutely, irrefutably in love with her.

The second: that to lose her would be the worst kind of hurt he'd ever know.

And so, he couldn't bring himself to bring up the message – to even acknowledge the painful reality to which it might lead.

"Actually," he cleared his throat, "I'm not feeling too well. I think I might head out."

Olivia frowned, feeling his forehead with the back of her hand.

"You don't feel warm. When did it start?"

He stood from the couch and headed for the door, but she was right behind him. "I think I'm just overly tired," he offered, glancing back at her. "I'm sure it's nothing, but just in case, I don't want you to catch anything."

"Well, you don't have to go all the way back to your place," she grabbed his hand, starting to lead him back to the couch. "You can sleep in my bed and I can just sleep out here or–"

"I want to sleep in my own bed."

It came out harsher than he intended, and she immediately dropped his hand, taking a step back. "Oh."

"Liv," he sighed, "I didn't mean it like that–"

"Don't worry about it," she smiled, but this time it didn't make her eyes light up. "You're not feeling well, you want to be in your own space. I get it."

In that moment, he wanted to stay – to apologize and kiss her until her smiled turned genuine. But he knew he wouldn't be able to ignore his questions for long, and he had more than an inkling that he wouldn't like the answers.

When he didn't respond, she shifted her weight on her feet and glanced back at the table. "Do you want to take food back with you?"

He shook his head. "I'm good."

"Ok." They were silent for a moment, before she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Let me know when you get home?"

"Yeah." Nodding, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway without looking back. "Bye, Olivia."

* * *

He was mad at her.

She wasn't sure why, but after nearly a day of thinking it over, she was certain of it.

She had spent most of the morning convincing herself otherwise. She told herself she was simply being one of _those_ girlfriends, the kind who complained when their partner didn't want to be glued to their side 24/7.

But, upon reading it again, his text the night before _did_ seem cold; a simple _**Made it home**_ , with none of the usual sugary sweet good night wishes that, coming from anyone else would make her cringe, but coming from him always made her grin like she was thirteen again.

And he had seemed standoffish when he left. He even called her Olivia. She couldn't remember the last time he had used her full name…

He was mad, she was certain of it, and she didn't like it.

So, that next afternoon, she decided to do something she never thought she would.

" _So after you pour in your chopped vegetables, you can see how much more water you need to add– oh, well, it looks like we don't need more than those two cups I just used."_

Olivia eyed her own pot with a proud smile, turning back to the video tutorial and skimming forward a few minutes to see just how much longer her chicken soup would take.

Never in a million years would she have imagined herself here, making a home-cooked meal for a man, but the idea had struck her on her way home, and – while she wasn't sure it couldn't be attributed to all the car fumes she had inhaled over the years – she had to admit that it wasn't the worst. When someone was under the weather you brought them soup, and when you wanted to show you really cared, you made things from scratch.

At least, that's how it seemed to work.

So, after a second try, there she was, turning off her stove and pouring the soup into the unused tupperware that sat in the back of one of her cabinets. And then, one train and a few blocks of walking later, she found herself outside his apartment.

Though she hadn't let herself dwell on it on her way over, she tried hard to think of what could have made him upset with her on the walk to his door. He had seemed fine when he got to her place the night before, and while she was a little distracted, she had been happy to see him, especially because they had barely spoken in the last few days.

She stopped walking as she was struck by realization.

That was it.

She hadn't purposefully been ignoring him. It was just that things were hectic between work and what she and Lucia had taken to calling the "D.S. Situation." In fact, she had spent the entire week preparing for tonight, when she'd confront Dean during what Lucia had told him was a blind date set up by his mother. The whole thing was a little dramatic for her taste, but she knew he'd never agree to meet her under the circumstances she preferred – a boardroom with her lawyer in tow – but, when in Rome…

With Lucia's help and scans of the documents in the folder, she had been able to do her due diligence. As it turned out, this wasn't the first time Tom Larsen and Lillian Forrester had teamed up. Although a bit of searching identified the former as a private investigator, he had no problem contributing as a witness to at least two of Lillian's past articles. Coincidentally, both were exposés on people who had previously had relations with the Shaw family.

By the time she was done looking into it all, she had enough dirt to bury every last one of them six feet under. She was sure that the threat of the media hellstorm she was prepared to unleash along with the inevitable defamation lawsuit – despite his and his sycophants' best efforts to avoid it – in the wake of the article's release would have Dean calling it off before the waiter even brought out their bread.

And when it was all said and done, she'd share it with Fitz, and they'd have a nice laugh about it all. Or maybe they wouldn't, but at least it would be behind them.

But she couldn't think that far ahead just yet. Right now, she had roughly ten minutes to fix things with Fitz, then she'd handle all the rest.

She knocked as soon as she made it to his door and smiled as she heard him call out, "Who is it?"

Instead of answering, she knocked again. A moment later, he appeared in the doorway.

"Liv?"

"Surprise." She smiled, holding up the tupperware for him to see. "I'm paying you back for last night."

But he didn't respond to that, instead looking her over, then stating plainly, "You look really nice."

Thrown off by his tone, she tried to keep the smile on her face. "Thanks. Are you feeling any better?"

"Huh?" He cleared his throat, "uh, yeah, a little."

"Well, I hope this helps." She handed him the dish. "I made it right after work and came straight over here. It's still a little warm."

That seemed to break the tension, and he looked at it with brows raised. "You _made_ this?"

"I did," she laughed at his expression. "I followed a recipe on YouTube. Only took me two tries."

He chuckled, inspecting the soup closely. "It looks good, but I think I'd still like to see you try it first."

"I would, but I can't stay."

The way his face dropped as she said it confirmed her suspicions. He had to be mad because she hadn't been around.

Quickly, she added, "I can come back later, I mean, if you're not feeling too sick and want me to…"

"Where are you going?"

Normally, she wouldn't have minded his asking, but something about the way he said it told her there was more to the question. Her own smile fell. "What?"

"Why can't you stay? Where are you going?"

She could hear it now, the underlying accusation in his questions, and crossed her arms. "What are you asking me, Fitz?"

His eyes narrowed. "It's a simple question, Olivia."

"No," she tilted her head, "I know what you're saying, but what are you _asking_? What do you want to know?"

And then, he laughed – just a few, quiet chuckles, but enough to reveal the frustration behind his amusement. She watched him, her face growing hot with her own annoyance.

"I don't know, Liv," he said eventually. "Is there something you think I should know?"

She stared at him long and hard, sighing before she responded, "Look, I know I've been a little preoccupied lately, and I'm just trying to make up for it." She took a step back from the doorway, deciding it'd be best to give him space. "Enjoy the soup and let me know if you want me to come back later. I have to go." She started walking back down the hallway, but his next words stopped her in place.

"To dinner with Dean." She turned around quickly to find him still in the doorway, frowning, "Right? That's where you have to go, isn't it?"

"Fitz–"

"Is that why you were meeting with Lucia? Has she just been passing notes between you two?"

She hurried back over to him. "Fitz, wait. It's not like that–"

"Well, please, tell me what it's like, Liv, because I've been trying to figure it out."

They both turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, remaining quiet as his neighbors, an older couple, approached their door and glanced at them curiously. Fitz breathed in deeply and opened his door wider, moving aside to let her walk in.

The moment he closed the door and they were face to face again, she gestured at him, "Is that what all of this is about?"

He looked confused. "All of what?"

"You, being all passive aggressive."

He grimaced, but quickly recovered. "This isn't about me. This is about Lucia making reservations for you and your ex."

By the time he finished, she had already pulled out her phone and started to scroll through it. He watched her, merely growing more frustrated at the sight.

"Liv? Are you serious right now?" He asked incredulously. "Are we really not going to talk about this?"

"Here." Rather than respond, she shoved her phone – opened to scans of the same documents she'd seen in the folder – into his hands. "This is why I'm going to meet with him." She watched as he read it over, his brows furrowing. "It's an article he's been planning to run about us. He's going to accuse you of trying to steal from the company and me of being the bimbo who didn't know any better than to go along with all of it. He's had someone follow us and everything." She shook her head, her anger shifting to Dean and growing tenfold. "It's all bullshit–"

"Not all of it."

She grew quiet, then asked finally, "What?"

"Well, me punching him is true, it's just not the full story…"

"Exactly, it's not the full story, which is why we can hit them back–"

"And I did take money from the car the same night we met." He looked up from her phone shyly, as if ashamed, and handed it back to her. "I returned it that Monday, though."

The logical part of her knew even that still wasn't a big deal. Worst came to worst, it was easy to spin it and say that he had just been holding the money so that it didn't sit in the car all weekend. But another part of her, the part at which he had managed to chip away, leaving behind a jumble of feelings and vulnerabilities, couldn't help but wonder whether there was more truth to the article than she'd thought.

"Why?" She broke the heavy silence settling around them.

He scratched the back of his neck. "Why did I take the money?"

But that wasn't what she meant, and she could tell that he knew.

"Liv," he groaned, "don't tell me you believe any of the rest of this."

"Why did you come up to me that night?"

"You said it yourself, it's bullshit."

"They said you guys stopped by my apartment earlier that day–"

"I can't believe you really think–"

"Did you already know who I was the night we met?"

"No, damnit!"

She jumped, and they both stared at each other, wide-eyed.

"I'm sorry," he cleared his throat, looking away. "I...I didn't mean to raise my voice like that." When she didn't say anything, he continued, "Everything about us, about how we met is real. They're just twisting things to…." he huffed frustratedly. "I wish you had shown this to me earlier."

Olivia released a deep breath, shaking her head. "It's ok. It's already taken care of. After I meet with Dean tonight–"

"So you just decided that on your own?"

Her eyes narrowed at his tone. "Huh?"

"Were you even going to tell me that all of this was happening?"

"Yes," she suddenly felt defensive, "of course."

"When?"

"Fitz–"

"When were you going to tell me?" He asked more emphatically.

"I've had a lot on my plate, and I just wanted to make sure I had a handle on it."

"And you don't think I could've helped?" His voice grew louder again. "I asked you what was going on right after you found all of this out, and you just kept me completely in the dark–"

"Do _not_ talk to me about keeping things from you, especially when you were what? Going through my messages? Trying to keep tabs on me?" Her own anger erupted without warning and she advanced upon him.

"That's not what happened at all. I'm not some overbearing asshole, Liv, you know that. I just so happened to see _one_ text, which wouldn't have even been a problem if you weren't hiding it from me!"

"I wasn't hiding it. I was–"

"Handling it, I know." By now, they were so close she could feel his heavy breaths hitting her face. "That's what you do, Livvie, you handle. You fix."

She winced at the intensity of his words – at the clear hurt underlying them – and took a step back to regain her composure. "I was trying to help. I was trying to protect us, protect you!"

"I'm not a child! You don't handle things for me." He closed the gap between them once more. "That's not a relationship. That's control."

She wanted to step back again, but his words stung deep, and she found that she could only stay in place, staring up at him.

As if immediately sensing how deep he had cut, Fitz's expression changed. His anger dissolved to fully reveal, at last, the hurt just beneath.

"We said we were in this together." He spoke softly now. "We're supposed to be a team."

She swallowed hard and, feeling unable to meet his gaze, shifted hers to a point just beyond his head.

But, immediately, he gently grabbed her chin and guided her eyes back to his. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then took in a deep breath before he finally spoke again, "I need us to be a team because I love you…"

 _Deja vu._ It was the only way she could describe hearing those words from his lips for the first time. An overwhelming sensation of life rejoining with a piece it hadn't even known was gone. In that moment, she could have sworn that she had heard him say he loved her every day of her life.

"...I wake up every morning and can't remember what it's like to not have you in my life. And it's not just that I can't, I don't want to. I love you, Liv, so I need us to be a team."

For a few seconds after he finished, it looked like he was going to be sick. And when she didn't respond, he dropped his hand and took a step back.

But, before he could even gain his footing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into her, kissing him with an intensity of affection she didn't know she could possess.

* * *

She loved him.

He could feel it in the way her lips melded, again and again, with his. He could feel it in the way she held onto the back of his head, desperately pulling him closer, even when there was no space left between them.

It made his heart soar, and, for a moment, he couldn't help but feel like his euphoria might carry him away – send him drifting right out of her arms until he realized it was all only a dream. But her nails grazed his scalp as his kisses moved to her neck, and he instantly knew it wasn't.

They were both frantic in a way they hadn't been before. She pulled him from her neck, her lips drifting across his cheek to keep the contact before reconnecting to his. He slid his hands across her back, then gripped her waist, then hoisted her up so that her legs wrapped around him, desperate to have her as close as possible.

He didn't remember carrying her over to his bed. Or stripping them both down to their underwear or unhooking her bra.

But he was certain he'd always remember the sound she made with his mouth on her breasts. And how fucking gorgeous she looked watching him kiss down her stomach, how she recoiled with a giggle when he made it just below her belly button because she was ticklish. And how she looked at him all the while – with a tenderness that stirred his soul and would, he knew in that moment, stay lodged in his heart for the rest of eternity.

And he prayed he'd never be left to rely on memory alone of the way she tasted. Her panties flung to who-knows-where and his face between her thighs, he knew he'd be content to live out his days like this.

* * *

He was going to drive her insane. She was sure of it.

Every kiss, every flick of his tongue, the way he–

 _Fuck_.

She'd never be able to think straight again. That was the only coherent thought she _could_ have as her hips rose off the bed and she came hard, with a shudder and something between a gasp and a moan.

She was still breathing hard when he finally emerged from between her thighs, a wide grin on his face. She couldn't help but laugh at the sight.

"What?" She breathed out.

He shook his head. "You're amazing."

Both their smiles grew as he lowered himself onto her, touching his forehead to hers. The playfulness fell away as he started to rub himself against her and her hands traced the waistband of his underwear.

"I.." she started, then swallowed a moan as he pecked her lips, letting her just barely taste the traces of herself on him. "My shot," she tried again, "I didn't get it yet…"

She knew they were too far gone to stop. As he pressed his arousal into hers, she knew that not getting to feel all of him was no longer an option. They'd just have to go old school, he'd just have to pull out…

But, to her surprise, he leaned over and reached into the single drawer of his bedside table, producing a condom.

"I got a box after last week." He flashed her a grin. "Just in case."

She bit down on her lip and, without saying anything, grabbed the condom and went back to work on his underwear. He was quick to help her, pulling it down and freeing himself entirely. Her breath hitched at the sight.

He was a beautiful man. She knew that already. But seeing him like this, bare and fully erect for _her_ , made her ache with a desire so intense she couldn't remember what it was to feel anything else.

She reached for him, took him in her hand and stroked gently. He groaned immediately, his hips jerking towards her. Her let her continue for a moment, before he grabbed her wrist and stilled her movements. At the same time, he snatched up the condom, now forgotten and lying beside her, and ripped the package open.

He moved so quickly that she barely had time to register what was happening before he was lying back atop her, lining himself up with her entrance. She became so wrapped up in the anticipation that it took her a few seconds to realize that he was staring at her, waiting with a look of pained patience.

Without his having to say, she understood what he was waiting on, and her need for him grew impossibly stronger. He made it so easy to say yes. And so, she nodded, finally giving him the permission he was looking for.

* * *

Being inside her was like nothing he had ever experienced in life.

He moved slowly at first, watching her face for signs of discomfort. Then, when there weren't any, when she wrapped her legs even tighter around him and lifted her hips readily into his, they fell into a rhythm – natural and fervent and entirely intoxicating.

He kissed her fiercely, then pulled away to hear her moans, her sighs – every beautiful, " _Yes_." and " _Oh god"_ that fell from her lips. He welcomed the feel of her fingers digging into his back and growled when her hand grabbed his ass and pushed him further into her. He grinned at her little gasps when he'd duck his head below, taking her breast in his mouth, and delighted in her soft whimpers when he sucked the sensitive spot on her neck.

He had never been so close so fast, had never felt so amazingly disoriented. His body no longer felt entirely his own; it felt like part of hers, trying eagerly, endlessly to find its way home.

"Livvie?" His voice was gruff as he called out, his lips still on her neck. He knew he wouldn't last too much longer. "You...you close?"

She placed a hand on the back of his head and tugged softly to lift his head until they were face to face. "Uh-huh," she panted, leaning up to capture his mouth with hers. "So close," she mumbled against his lips.

She cried out a moment later, as he lowered his hand between them, touching her until, at last, she–

" _Fuck_ , _Fitz_... _ **yes!**_ "

He came immediately afterwards, stronger than he ever had in his entire life. There was a brief moment when the world blurred and he thought – way, _way_ in the back of his mind – that he'd be perfectly fine if this was how it all ended.

And when it had passed, eventually – he wasn't sure just how long it had been – he found himself collapsed on top of her, both of them breathing heavily.

He looked up at her, and when she finally opened her eyes, they said the same thing he knew his did:

 _Holy shit_.

Broad grins lit up their faces at the silent exchange, quickly evolving into laughter.

"That was…"

"Insane," he supplied for her, and they laughed even harder.

It was a while before they grew quiet again, and as they did, he shifted their positions so that she was lying on top of him, head on his chest. She started to draw shapes on his skin and he sighed, reveling in how absolutely perfect the moment felt.

And just when he was sure it couldn't get any better, she stopped and looked up at him.

"Fitz?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you, too. I'm in love with you, too."

He didn't know what he expected his reaction to be, but the tears that sprang to his eyes caught him by surprise. He blinked to clear them, then pulled her in closer and leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead.

For so long, he had accepted that things were just destined to go wrong for him. Wrong father, wrong career, wrong spouse. Yet now, with her in his arms, he felt he truly had the power to make things right.

"You're the first right thing in my life." He felt intoxicated with a joy that – as it seemed to always be the case when it came to her – he had never before experienced, and the words simply spilled out. "I want you to know that. I _need_ you to know that."

And although he didn't say it, he knew he had told her not just that he needed her to know that; he had told her that needed her, plain and simple.

After a long moment, tears shining, too, in her eyes, she nodded, "Ok."

"Ok?"

She cupped his cheek, stroking it tenderly. "You were right. We should be a team. We _are_ a team."

He leaned into her touch and smiled at her words. Suddenly, she wasn't close enough and he bent forward to kiss her gently, just barely pulling back as he spoke against her lips, "Ok."

* * *

 **A/N: It's been forever since I updated, so I didn't want to hold up the chapter with a long note at the beginning. I just wanted to say thank you so much to everyone who's reached out to me, either through messages or in the reviews about updating this story, because it really did motivate me to get this chapter out. This update took way longer than I had originally planned, partially because I planned this chapter as two separate parts, but I couldn't find a place where I wanted to stop (and, since I had taken so long since the last update, I wanted to give you guys a longer chapter).**

 **With all of that out of the way, I hope the wait was worth it. Lots of stuff (finally) went down this chapter. Liv and Fitz are just getting started, Lucia has been brought into the fold, and Dean has been...being Dean. I'd love to hear your thoughts.**

 **I'm not sure when I'll get the next update out, but hopefully it will be sometime in the not too distant future.**


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